


[Witty Title Here]

by Existential_Gamer



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Cassandra, Angry Varric, Awkwardness, Character Death, Feels, Fred makes terrible plans, Gratuitous Swearing, Memory Loss, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, We are going off the rails kiddies, delicious vegan desserts, gratuitous assides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7022758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Existential_Gamer/pseuds/Existential_Gamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing everything, Winifred takes off on a suicidal ride through torrential rainfall (What could be more cliche than that?). After the near-death experience, she needs a place to think about what comes next. She eventually finds herself at a lavish inn called the Cork and Brie: Bed and Breakfast. This B&B is run by a phlegmy, old, crazy witch of a woman (I found something more cliche than that other thing!). Oh, did I mention that Winifred was also having visions of Thedas weeks before her trip to the B&B? No? Well, she was. Needless to say, universe hopping shenanigans ensue. </p><p>Modern Girl in Thedas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Our Heroine Might be Going Insane

**Author's Note:**

> First post, be kind. Also, first fiction-y writing in a looooong time, be extra kind. It takes a bit till we get to Thedas, but patience will be rewarded. *warning for gratuitous use of the ellipsis and asides*
> 
> If you see any tense issues, it's probably because I had a hard time deciding on a tense. I tried to go back through and clean it all up. Let me know if anything is too distracting.
> 
> Fun Fact: I don't own any of the Dragon Age characters. I just need a little help flexing the writing muscles, and Dragon Age inspires me. All glory to the Dragon Age devs, writers, producers, graphics teams, voice actors, et cetera and so forth. You guys rock.

I was losing it. For the past few weeks, I have been seeing things… people, places that just couldn’t be real. It started out with sounds that just didn’t fit where I was. Like, last week, I was in the middle of a mall and I heard nature-y sounds, like birds and insects and stuff. Initially, I just shrugged it off as maybe a new-agey store on the level above me that had a noise machine or something like that. But then, I started seeing people in the corner of my eye that disappeared as I turned to look at them.

Sometimes I got a good look at them before they disappeared.

The weirdest part (besides the whole disappearing thing and seeing things.. thing) was that they wore medieval-type clothing, _familiar_ medieval-type clothing. I tried ignoring the visions, but some of them were _quite_ persistent. Like right now, there was a giant qunari wearing an eyepatch staring down at me with his one eyeball. An eyeball that screamed ‘experience’ and made you feel like it could see right down to your deepest, darkest secrets. But I knew I couldn’t be seeing that eye, or the body attached to it. There were several _good_ and _logical_ reasons that I couldn’t be seeing what I was seeing. For the record _and my sanity_ I’m going to try and lay them out:

 

  1. Qunari aren’t real. They just aren’t. They inhabit a fictional game world, not the good ol’ U.S. of A. (Let alone Earth).
  2. This wasn’t just any Qunari, it was The Iron _fucking_ Bull from _Dragon Age: Inquisition_. So, obviously, I must be imagining it. If I were going to be seeing a Qunari, why would it be _this_ Qunari? Why would I be seeing a Qunari at all? Why not a human? Or elf? Why wouldn’t it be some Qunari that wasn’t featured in a game I had been playing a lot recently? Why wasn’t it Sten?  Clearly, he’s an image being regurgitated from my overtaxed brain and put into my perception of reality. It was a familiar character (a character from a game I had been obsessed with lately) manifesting itself as a hallucination caused by too much game playing mixed with a healthy dose of insanity or stress or _something_.
  3. Currently, The Iron Bull was intangible. I know because I tried to touch him and my hand went right through ( _Shh. Don’t ask my why I tried to touch Qunari abs. We all get curious, don’t judge._ ) Not only was he physically intangible, but he also was visually ghosty. I mean, I could see through him. His image sort of… wavered.
  4. I was in my underwear.  Just to be clear, let me repeat: this Iron Bull could NOT be real because I was in my underwear. Which, consequently, would mean that the first time I met The Iron Bull, I was practically naked. (Not that I am buying into this whole hallucination, see reasons 1-3.)



 

For all of the aforementioned reasons: Iron Bull is not real. He is not standing in my room. He is not giving me the stink eye. I am not practically nak… oh wait. Yeah. I’m practically naked. That part is real.

It had started when I came fresh out of the shower. I had struggled into my bra and panties, when I heard someone clear his throat. I turned around and gave a _courageous_ squeak and instinctively lunged for my towel.

Guess what? It gets worse. Not only am I sure that Iron Bull had been standing there before I got my undies on, I had, also, been blaring my “DA:I” playlist. Currently, it was playing “Too Sexy for my Shirt.” Ironically, Bull and I were both shirtless. _Thanks, Universe!_ I...uhhh... also may or MAY NOT have been dancing in an… uncouth and suggestive manner while wiggling into my undies. I will _never_ admit it. You would have to torture me before I might even suggest that I would dance around naked to "Too Sexy for my Shirt". 'Cause I’m way too cool for that. Obviously.

_Yeah. If you repeat it enough, it will be true, Fred._

“You might be a demon, but at least it’s the kind of demon I could get behind,” he said with a chuckle and suggestive eyebrow waggle.

I threw a hairbrush at him. (Yes, even after I had already established the non-tangible status of his body, I threw a hairbrush at him.)

Even if the brush would have gone harmlessly through him, The Iron Bull could never let that happen. It was a reflex that was ingrained through a lifetime of facing lethal opponents and coming back alive; it was a skill that came from real battle experience. “HEY, what was that for?” he asked with a faux hurt look on his face.

_Teasing_ AND _mad dodging skills? While I was practically naked? Awwww hellz nah._ “What the hell are you doing here?! No, wait. Don’t answer that. If you answer that I’ll be interacting with a delusion, and I'm not about to go down to crazy town without a fight." _Best not to interact with the crazy voices...vision… thing_.

There was a bit of a pause while we sized each other up and then, my big mouth opened up again. “Also, I’m not a demon. I’m not nearly vicious enough to be a demon. I also enjoy a wide range of emotions, not just the ones that make you go all ‘ _GrrrRRRrr!_ I’m a demon!’,” I added with an indignant huff and a few lame hand gestures. _Oh good, ignoring the crazy lasted for about...2 seconds. You went from ignoring your delusion to giving it a nuanced demon analysis in practically the same sentence. Wonderful start, Fred._

“Yeah, demons do tend to be more about throwing fireballs than hairbrushes,” he quipped.

“Are you making fun of my weapon of choice? You know what? next time a fictional character appears in my room I’ll make sure I have a battleaxe or something ready to hurl at him or her.”

His eyebrow lifted at the words “fictional character” but he covered the movement with a slightly delayed “That’s kinda hot.”  I guess he was going to let the fictional character comment slide because he didn’t ask about it. Or... he was waiting to see what other information I might let slip before he starts a true interrogation. If _I_ were a Qunari spy, that’s what I would do. _Wow, my imagination is ON POINT with this Iron Bull delusion. Or, in addition to delusional, I’m also paranoid. I even think the voices in my head are out to get me. Awesome._

_I think I need a therapist._

Instead of inquiring about my slip-of-the-tongue, Bull moved on to more practical questions “So, if this isn’t the fade, and you aren’t a demon, where am I and _what_ is that noise?”

_Huh I had completely forgotten about the music playing in the background._ “It’s just my phone,” I replied, and looked blankly back at the Qunari. I was still wary of interacting with the possible delusion (and a little indignant at being mostly naked when meeting aforementioned delusion). Bull continued to stare at me at me while he waited for a more thorough explanation. I reached over and grabbed the phone out of it’s caddy between the speakers and paused the music. I carried the device over to Bull and lifted it up for his inspection.

“Oh, yeah that explains _everything,_ ” He gave me a look that said: ‘explain, or I start swinging this axe around.’

I gave a huff and tried to explain “It’s a device that can re-play recorded musical performances. It can also communicate instantly with people over large distances and capture images and organize your life and... and a lot of other things.” He started giving it the stink eye (WOW, the stink eye from a giant one-eyed Qunari was rather intimidating). _He must think it’s some kind of magic_  “Oh, don’t be like that, Bull. It’s not magic. It’s a.. uhh… a thing that… umm... It's a computer and it generates images and and... it was built out of metal and it has electricity running through it... Electricity was a thing discovered by this guy with a kite... and never mind the kite thing. Do you even have kites? Nevermind. It's a power source, but it doesn't need a mage or the fade or anything. It sort of sits in the battery waiting to be used. But we are getting off topic, a phone it’s a... umm... really complex machine, so complex I can’t really fully explain why it’s not magic,” I finished lamely and gave a frown at my terrible attempt to assuage his fears. _Eloquent as always, Fred._

While I was lost in my own contemplation of the intricacies of computers and hardware, I didn’t notice how the Ben-Hassrath’s gaze had intensified.

“How do you know my name?” He had shifted his posture into a more combative one, reaching an arm behind him to grab the hilt of his massive battleaxe.

“Uhh… that is a tough question. But you are intangible and I know you to be a real sweetie,” _I hope, “_ under all that...” I flailed my arms at him in an attempt to gesture toward his impressive musculature, “Qunari strength, so I’m going to ignore it. Also, I’ll probably never see you again because I’m insane and you aren’t really here.”

He looked like he had a really good rebuttal (and possibly an axe to hurl at my face), but I never got to hear it because The Iron Bull faded out of existence and hopefully, back to his world. _No, wait. He doesn’t need to ‘fade back to his world’ he was never really here. He was a figment of an overworked mind. Yeah, that’s gotta be it._

I had hoped that would be the end of it. Ha, hope. What a ridiculous notion.


	2. Bertha, a Bit of Backstory, and Other Things “B”

Over the next few days, I tried my best to put the encounter with The Iron Bull out of my mind. There were actual,  _tangible_ things to worry about; real people and real commitments I needed to take care of. Like today, I volunteered at Habitat for Humanity. As part of my agreement with my brother, charity  work was always a part of my life; it gives me a sense of purpose and meaning in my life that was needed after what happened to our parents.

We had promised each other that we would always pursue our passions and live life to the fullest. For me, that meant charity work, for my brother, that meant video games. He was the one who introduced me to video games when we were just kids. For Garrett it had always been a passion, but for me it started as sibling rivalry, he wanted a gameboy, so I _needed_ a gamboy. Overtime, the rivalry mellowed into bonding over Pokemon, Donkey Kong, and Mario Kart. We eventually split into our own gaming specialties. He’s a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, but  can always (and I mean always) trounce me in any fighting game. And he’s a real shit about it too. Occasionally he’ll let me win to keep me playing, but I always know when he lets me win, and I let him let me.

In our teenage years, we both fell into World of Warcraft and devoted many-a-year to killing internet dragons together. In WoW, I found my love of RPGs and continued in that vein: Mass Effect, Skyrim, KoTOR, Fable, and, of course, Dragon Age.

Without my brother, I probably wouldn’t know who the giant ox-man was in my room (or more likely the insanity would have manifested in some other form. Maybe a character from a film instead? Like… Obi-Wan or something. _Whatever. What’s the point in speculating who an imaginary me, from another reality, would hallucinate anyway?_ ). Now my brother works for IGN. In fact, this weekend we are going to PAX. He has a free pass from work because he is part of a panel on livestreaming. A proud big sister like me just has to go see her little brother on his first ever official panel at PAX.

 _Me and my career you ask?_ Well, I’m a little less focused in my career. I have done a lot of... different things, but I haven’t really settled. For now, I do what I can to scrape by and make sure I leave time for charity work and my brother.  

_Ugh. Enough ruminating in the past and talking about myself in my head. Who wants all that boring exposition anyway?_

I got dressed  and ambled my way to the kitchen. The first thing I did was start my electric tea kettle to a precise 190 degrees. I pulled out my coffee grinder and my fair-trade, organic, medium roast beans. (Yeah, I’m a bit of a coffee snob. It’s also a bit of an indulgence. But, in my defense, once you do coffee the _right_ way, you never go back.) After grinding the beans,I went to grab my tool belt and my phone speakers. I came back to steep the coffee.  After about 5 minutes, the coffee was perfection and I took a moment to inhale the scent of dark roasted Mexican beans, rich and chocolatey with hints of caramel. _This is bliss._ I reluctantly tore myself away from my coffee and loaded it into a thermos.

When I made it down to  the parking lot, a beautiful sight awaited me. _Ah, my lovely and bodacious Bertha (yeah, I said bodacious, get over it, there's nothing wrong with a bit of alliteration)._ After placing the coffee on the ground I pulled the tarp off and put it in one of the saddlebags. Taking a step back and picking up my coffee,  I admired my Bertha. She was silver Honda Shadow and the most beautiful bike in the world.  “Ready, for another adventure old girl?” She didn’t reply, but I knew she was ready and able. “Thatta girl.”

_I did mention I was probably going insane, right? But, I guess talking to Bertha is actually normal behavior for me. My motorcycle and I had been through a lot together..._

I shook my head as my eyes began to water, attempting to pull myself out of the past. _That memory was always overwhelming. Jesus Christ on a cracker. This is turning into a really nostalgic, mopey morning._ I gave Bertha one more smile and then looked at my phone, “Oh, shit!” _I’m going to be late_. I grabbed my thermos, hopped on the motorcycle, and raced to the work site.

When I got there, I was pretty much alone. Usually, a supervisor is hanging around, but not all of the volunteers got up at the crack of dawn like I did. Supposedly, some kid named Brad was my work partner for the day. Brad was serving two hundred hours of community service. Why did Brad have court-ordered community service, you ask? I really couldn’t say for sure. The latest rumor going around was that it was a prank. Involving a goat. Or something. Whatever. Brad chose community service over paying a fine, good on him for choosing to improve the lives of others to make up for whatever it is that he did.

Climbing up the ladder I saw that shingles were already on the roof. Someone must have been here earlier.   _Huh. Maybe Brad was here and had an emergency or something, far be it for me to judge someone for dropping their responsibilities with no warning_. I took off my jacket and started the air compressor for the nail gun. After a few trips up and down the ladder with my tools, I was ready to go.

 _Today is a day for Freddie Mercury_ , I decided. I set my phone in its caddy and start up my “Queen, Rock Songs, OH MY!” playlist. Looking back over at the pile shingles that needed to be installed, I let out a sigh. It’s usually easier to have someone set up the roofing tiles and then have another nail them in place. It was efficient and smooth with two people. Today I’m alone _. But who needs smooth and efficient, anyway?_

_Holy sarcasm, Fred! You’ve done this alone before. It shouldn’t be too hard once you get into a rhythm. Stop being snarky._

_Yep, you’re right, me. We can do this._ Rolling my shoulders and setting my jaw, I got to work.

As  “Another One Bites the Dust” ends and  “Bohemian Rhapsody” comes on, I finally find my rhythm.

 

_“Is this the real life?_

_Or is it fantasy?_

_Caught in a landslide_

_No escape from reality..._

 

“What in the Maker’s name are you doing?!”

I jumped with surprise and  let out a not too ladylike: “What the fuck?”

Unfortunately, sudden jerky movements from shock or surprise AND a heavy nail gun don’t make it easy to balance on the edge of a roof. I started to flail my arms to reassert my balance, but it didn’t help. _Yep, I am falling off the roof. Today is an awesome day._ I thought sardonically as I resigned myself to my fate.

Fortunately, the person who startled me is also prepared to save me. Just as I felt myself being pulled to the ground by gravity, a firm hand clasped my upper arm, “Easy there, my lady. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Jesus hot sauce on a Christmas cake, _don’t do that!_ ”

“A what on a what?” he asked with a hearty chuckle. When I just glared at him instead of clarifying, he shook his head with a smile and continued, “It makes no matter, I think I get the gist of it. My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you off a building” He glanced around a bit, “ I also didn’t mean to find myself in such a strange place either, but here we are.”

I took time from my totally justified panic attack caused by my near death experience, to actually look at my savior. _Oh shit. It’s another hallucination. “_ You’re Warden Blackwall _.” And his arms didn’t go through me like mine did to Bull. In fact, they grabbed my arm, preventing from my life-long dream of becoming a human pancake. Weird._ I started poking at his arm to see if he was real.

He shifted nervously, “That’s what they call me.” He answered evasively. “Do I know you?” He frowned at my poking and gave me a once-over/stink-eye combo “I feel like I might remember a lady such as yourself.” He gave a soft burly chuckle as he gently grabbed my hand to stop the incessant poking.

 _Wait... HE thinks_ I _look strange? He’s the one wearing armor and has a giant bushy beard._

“Oh, you know, you hear about people and things… Wait a minute. You aren’t real. I’m alone on this roof having another meltdown” I stated indignantly.

“Right…a ‘melt-down’, you say?” He nodded indulgently then glanced around. “Well, I'm pretty sure _I'm_ real. Last time I checked I was. But this place... we aren't in the fade are we? Usually my dreams are less... memorable. No, this place seems to solid." He finally brought his gaze back to mine, "If I might ask, what are you doing up here?”

It's unfair how well he's taking this. I guess living in a world of magic makes world hopping easier to accept? I gave him a glare and answered tersely “Installing a roof.”

“A roof, all by your lonesome?” He inquired giving me another, more thorough, once-over. It was a look that suggested I might not be capable. Oh, how I hate that look.

_Oh, no sir. We don’t need no misogyny from a fake Warden. Especially a fake warden that doesn’t exist!_

“I can handle myself," I replied icily. "I’ve been installing roofs for _years_ and this isn’t the first one I’ve had to put on by myself,” I added a threatening thrust of my nail gun to emphasize the point.

He lifted his arms in a peaceable manner and said, “I meant no offense, my lady. It just seems like a lot of work for one person.”

I lowered my nail gun at that, “Oh. Yeah. It is a bit difficult by myself, but my Brad ran off and people need homes, so, here I am.”

“Your ‘Brad’ ran off?”

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be helping me install the roof.”

He, kindly,decided to ignore my strange phrasing and moved on: “‘People need homes’, you mean this roof isn’t for your own home?” He asked, disbelievingly.

“Nope. Not mine. I work for an organization that builds and renovates homes for low income people at prices they can afford.”

“Hmmm, building houses for people in need. That seems like a worthy cause, one a Warden could get behind. Since I don’t seem to have darkspawn to fight or wardens to recruit, I think I might lend a hand. That is, if an independent and strong woman such as yourself wouldn’t mind assistance from a humble warden.” A rather charming smile made it’s way through the tangles of his beard.

“Oh, you're smooth, I think I’ll keep you.” He let out a bark of a laugh at that.

I don’t know if I should indulge this vision or just ignore it. Maybe my mind needs it. Maybe it will help make this roof installation go faster, if not in reality then in my mind. _Oh! That gives me an idea to test these hallucinations. It would probably take me a day and a half to finish this last half of the roof, but with another person, we could get it done today._ “Alright. Let’s get to work before my new assistant charms himself into other, more exciting, manual labor. You set ‘em up and I’ll nail ‘em down.”

“As you wish, my lady.” _Hah! He even gave a little bow. Chivalry is weird._

I gave an eyeroll at his ‘knightly charm’ which brought another smile to his face.

While we worked I wondered about his tangibility and what that meant for my mental stability. He was _here._ Physically he was here, laying down roof shingles for me to nail down. Either these hallucinations are extremely vivid. I mean… was it actually me laying down the shingles and I’m just imagining another person doing it? I looked at my watch to get confirmation that the work was being done faster than I could by myself… unless my perception of time and what I’m seeing on my watch are also being warped. _Hmmm..._

I shook my head again. Regardless of the possibility of my mind fudging time, there is _no way_ I could complete this roof by myself in one day. My mind couldn’t alter my perception of reality that much, could it? Could my mind make me see a completed roof when it was only really partially done? But my mind would also have to alter how I perceived interactions with my fellow volunteers. If someone asked me why the roof wasn't finished, could my mind twist the entire conversation to match my imagined reality? _Ugh._ My brain was starting to hurt. Maybe I’m not even here… Maybe… Maybe I’m locked up in some loony bin and all of this is just imaginary… Maybe I really did fall off the roof and it left me in a coma in the hospital…

I don’t know if these people or visions or whatever you want to call them are real,  bottom line is: they are solidifying (or my perception of them is solidifying) and that's something to worry about. But at least I can take comfort in knowing one thing for certain: If I really am talking to these video game characters; they think I’m crazy, and they are probably right.  _Yeah. Certainty is soooo comforting_.

Before I could continue that pleasant line of thought “Renegade” by Styx comes up on my playlist.

 

“ _Oh, Mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law_

_Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home_

_Oh, Mama I can hear you a-cryin', you're so scared and all alone_

_Hangman is comin' down from the gallows and I don't have very long_

 

_“The jig is up, the news is out_

_They've finally found me_

_The renegade who had it made_

_Retrieved for a bounty_

 

_“Never more to go astray_

_This will be the end today_

_Of the wanted man_

 

_Oh, Mama, I've been years on the lam and had a high price on my head_

_Lawman said, 'Get him dead or alive.' Now it's for sure he'll see me dead_

_Dear Mama, I can hear you cryin', you're so scared and all alone_

_Hangman is comin' down from the gallows and I don't have very long”_

 

As the song played, the feel of our work shifted from friendly and jovial to tense and awkward. I raise an eyebrow in question at Blackwall. It must be hard having your worst fears come at you in song form. Blackwall shifts his weight from foot to foot “This song it reminds me of someone…”

“Hah, I bet it does.”  I meant it lightly, but it comes out sounding more like an accusation.  _Huh, why did that happen?_

“My lady…” He begins.

After waiting a beat I asked “Yes, _Warden_ Blackwall?”  He seemed discouraged by my emphasis on “warden”.  _Ugh, so hostile, Fred._ _Stop it._

“Nothing, my lady. The thought seems to have escaped me.”

Shrugging, I let his poor excuse stand and go back to work. Maybe he didn’t _want_ to know that I knew about his past. Sometimes things in the past just needed to stay there. I know enough about that to respect the man’s privacy. The more I thought about it the more I realized Blackwall and I had a lot in common. Maybe that's why I was being so hostile. We both did what we could to help those around us, to make up for wrongs we committed. The only difference between us is that I haven’t found my wardens yet. But I wasn’t about to bring that up. He seems thoroughly uncomfortable, now. More-so than when I was incessantly poking the man.  _I also don't do touchy-feely, but for my sanity, and the preservation of my mental image of myself, I'm going to say the main reason that I didn't  talk about it was because I didn't want to make Blackwall feel more uncomfortable than he already is._

As the song ended, the shingle Blackwall was holding slipped out of his hand. He tried to catch it, but his hand went through it. “Well that’s different” he commented and faded out of existence.

It’s about noon and the roof is almost completely finished. After another thirty minutes of silent work I finish the job and pack up for the day. The work site has a lot more people on it now.

Subdued by how the interaction with Blackwall ended, I avoid eye contact with everyone else. Not that this behavior was really new, but I make extra-sure to keep my head down today. Thankfully, everyone seems to get the message that I don’t want to talk. I notice that someone brought in lunch for the volunteers. I grab a veggie sandwich and head to one of my paying jobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are going to be sort of the narrator talking to herself/audience, if that wasn’t clear. It’s also a little 4th-wall-breaky. If it is annoying or confusing, let me know. I’ll try to clear it up, but I make no promises as to abandoning the practice completely.
> 
> Sorry if the beginning of the chapter is all choppy. Originally the sentence structure was repetitive, so it went through heavy editing. Still trying to get a handle on this first person kind of writing and trying to avoid the “I did this. I, then, did that” kind of thing.
> 
> I also wanted to get some exposition about Fred and her brother in there without making it boring or giving it all away. I hope it found that sweet spot.
> 
> Fun Fact: Originally, I had a few PARAGRAPHS written about properly brewing coffee. I tried to cut it all out, but it just kept sneaking back in.
> 
> *Bonus brownie points* if someone can say where "Jesus hot sauce on a Christmas cake" came from, without googling it, of course :P


	3. Flogging Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos/grammatical errors. I struggled a bit to get Sera right in this chapter, but I wanted to publish it today. Gotta go to work soon and I don't have time to give it a good edit. I'll probably come back later to do it. Let me know if you see some glaring inconsistencies or annoying errors.
> 
> *6/12*UPDATE*
> 
> Edited it a bit, there were some continuity issues I wanted to fix (How dare Fred walk away from her idol without an acknowledgement?! Quite rude!) 
> 
> *Adds with a mysterious air* Also added a sentence or two pertaining to overarching plotty bits. *intense and fairly awkward winking and nodding* 
> 
> There is a rhyme and reason for why Fred is seeing these things. If you haven't connected the dots, good. I'm doing my job.... If you HAVE connected the dots, good. I'm doing my job. It's really a win-win. I am attempting to weave another plot line into DA:I, but I'm luxuriating in the Fred meets Inquisition members part of the story (always my favorite part of the MGiT story). I hope you are all enjoying the ride.

So… let me start this off by saying that I wasn’t particularly proud of this part-time job. It helps pay the bills because my employer believes in paying livable wages and the work isn’t diametrically opposed to my ethics, so that’s two very strong points in the ‘plus column’. In the ‘negative column,’ the job isn’t very high in dignity. I’m going to stop beating around the bush here… I dress as a vegan ice cream cone. Yep. I am one of those unfortunates who dresses as food to pay the bills. It’s alright. Go ahead and laugh. I’m glad I can bring joy to your mundane and respectable lives.

 _So, how do I get through the day, you ask?_ I throw on my prescription sunglasses and put in my ear buds and hope no one recognizes me. If anyone does, I pretend like I’m not dressed as a 5’6” ice cream. If they don’t remark on the fact that I’m a walking-talking dessert, I keep that person as a friend. If they start laughing uncontrollably, I give them the finger as they walk away.

Just as Flogging Molly started blaring through my headphones, I settled into my work. The day was going smoothly until about eleven. To my _great_ displeasure, a familiar sporty red Miata pulled in to a parking lot across the street. _Oh great, Caroline from kickboxing_ . I couldn’t quite keep the verbal sneer out of my inner voice. _Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t-- Aaaaaaand she recognized me. What’s even more delightful (sarcasm) is the smile that spreads across her face; it's the kind of smile that promises torment and humiliation._ I turned my music down and prepared for battle.

“Winnie?!” She asked as I cringed at the nickname.

“Caroline, how _gooooood_ to see you,” I forced out of my mouth and hope I was wearing an expression on my face that somewhat resembled a friendly face.

“I couldn’t believe it was you. You always seem so serious and focused in class… I can’t believe _this_ is what you do,” She couldn’t quite contain the snort when she said ‘this’. I gave an eyeroll, which she couldn’t see through my sunglasses (hopefully). 

“Only part-time.” I replied tersely.

“I couldn’t imagine even doing it part time. It must take  _serious_   _dedication_ to work in such a position.”  _Fucking hell she giggled. I'm going to need to punch something soon. She's just doing this because of that one time I *cough* accidentally kicked her in the face. ON ACCIDENT. You guys believe me, right?_

“Yep.” I replied tersely. To change the subject, I reached out to hand her a flyer. “Would you like to try our vegan ice cream?”

“Oh, no honey,” I cringed, at the term of endearment and the superior airs she was putting on, “I’m _paleo_ . Soy isn’t something a caveman could gather or make, so I don’t eat it. I try to eat as much _whole_ dairy as I can.”

I was going to explain that we offer nut-based milk alternatives for paleo diets or maybe mention the ridiculousness of the paleo diet in general, but then I realized she might actually stick around to either eat the ice cream or try and ‘fix’ my ignorant lifestyle. I plastered a smile on my face and replied “Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t accommodate your dietary _needs._  I hope you have a  _pleasant_ day.”

“It was good seeing you, Winnie. I can’t _wait_ until our next class together.” She gave her long, luxurious (and probably fake) blond hair a flip over her shoulder with her perfectly manicured nails and turned to leave with a cruel chuckle.

_I want to kill her. But I probably shouldn't. What I SHOULD do is find a new kickboxing class for my sake as well as hers._

I raised my arm to give Caroline the finger when something darted passed me, out of the corner of my eye. It was too fast to see as it whizzed by, but I recognized the shape when it "thunked" into a tree. It was an arrow. A  _real,_ honest-to-goodness, goddamn, bird-fletched, fucking arrow! _An arrow that just narrowly avoided skewering my arm!_

A sudden squeal tore my attention away from the foreign object. I looked back at Caroline whose designer purse had a large tear in the side. A tear where all of her things had come pouring out. Caroline looked around for the culprit and all she saw was _me_ with my arm outstretched in a vulgar manner and mouth still hanging open.

“YOU!” She screeched and stomped toward me. “How DARE you?! This purse was a limited edition _Louis Vuitton_  and had more value than your worthless hide could ever--”

“I--I didn’t do it”

“What? What do you mean you didn’t do it. You are the only one here!”

I pointed over at the tree with the arrow still sticking in it “That arrow, over there did it. It nearly _killed_ me! Who cares about your stupid bag?”

“It's not a bag, it's a limited edition Louis Vuitton _masterpiece_ \--wait--An _arrow?!”_ Her eyes followed where my hand was pointing and started to bulge when she saw the arrow. “You shot an _arrow_ at me?”

Let's just say Caroline wasn't the most observant of people. (Why would she bother to investigate what's around her when she could just spend her day looking in the mirror?) “Do I look like I have a bow? No. It came from behind me. It almost _hit_ me.”

We both glanced in the direction the arrow had come from, and saw nothing. Caroline looked nervous, she started to shout in that direction “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers! I’ll-I'll find out who you are and-and make you _pay_. You owe me a new bag!” She gave a nervous glance around. Probably deciding it wasn’t the best idea to threaten someone so clearly armed and dangerous, Caroline ran off in a huff, but only after giving me a death glare for good measure. 

_Yep. Definitely time for a new kickboxing class._

As I stared after Caroline with a dumbfounded look, I started to consider the implications of what had just happened.

I stared at the arrow that had torn apart Caroline's bag. _Why an arrow? Isn't it really easy to get a gun in the U.S.? Why walk around with such an outdated weapon, and when I say outdated, I mean_  really _outdated. This projectile isn't a modern arrow; something made out of a light metal alloy. On closer inspection, the thing is made out of wood, I can even see the markings from the tool that crafted it marring the grain. It was the kind of thing you see at renaissance fairs or on TV, not a modern arrow. T_ _his is an arrow from Thedas, it has to be, it's the only explanation that makes sense. Well, it makes sense if you are me and had been seeing people and things from Thedas lately. More importantly, I wasn’t the only person to see it. Caroline’s bag was ripped open by the arrow. Caroline saw the arrow, Caroline realized I didn’t have a bow to fire an arrow. Maybe… maybe I’m not crazy. Maybe these things are actually happening to me_.

_What the fuck? What the actual fuck am I supposed to do with that?_

Before I could deal with the ramifications that maybe I _wasn’t_ going insane, I heard very loud sniggering behind me.

“Did you see the look on her face? First she was all hoity-toity ‘look at me, look how important I am’ and then WHAM, with the arrow,” she continued to laugh maniacally as I turned around to look at her. It was Sera. _Of course it's Sera. Who else could make a rich, influential person so upset with just one arrow?_

Sera finally calmed down enough to notice that a 5'6" ice cream cone was standing in front of her. “Oi! Some rich twat make you dress like that so other rich twats could laugh at ya? I might be able to even the score a little with ‘em.”

“No, I dress like this because--”

“You dress like that on _purpose?”_ She started laughing again. _“_ You’re a weird one then, ain’t cha?”

“Yes, I mean, No.”

She was laughing again.

“I get paid to dress like this, but it’s sort of my choice to work doing it.”

“Oh." Her laughter died down and she looked me up and down. "Wut are you suppose’ to be, then?” Her brows furrowed as if contemplating some deep significance.

“A delicious vegan dessert. What does it look like?” I added (a little defensively).

“PffbbbfTf”

“Did you… did you just fart at me?”

“PFFbBbfTFFfff,” She added as an eloquent rebuttal.

"I... I don't even know what to say to that."

“A dessert? That don’t look like no dessert I would ever eat. Wait…” she gave me a salacious once over and waggled her eyebrows,  “Watchu look like under all that ridiculousness?”

“I.. I… you what? What did you just ask me?” I sputtered out.

“I asked ‘Wot. do. you. look. like.’” She enunciated every word as if I were hard of hearing. "Get some of that dessert stuck in your ear?”

“What do I look like? I look like someone who is gonna punch you in the face if you don’t stop making fun of me.”

She let out more maniacal laughter, “You, I like. Hey that veeg-y thingy, or whatever? That taste any better than cookies?”

“Uhh, I did say it was ‘delicious’ didn’t I?”

“I dunno…doesn’t look too appealin’ people sized and all that,” She gave me a scowl. “And you would think a dessert the size of people would look better than a regular size one,” She crossed her arms with a challenging posture that screamed _prove it_.

I rolled my eyes. Taking care of my brother had introduced me to all sorts of manipulation. I knew what she was doing, but I gave in anyway. “Alright, I have a break coming up anyway. Let’s get you some ice cream.”

Her demeanor changed dramatically as she gave me a triumphant smile.

I just rolled my eyes. _This could be a chance to test the “Am I crazy?” theory, again._

We approached the ice cream stall and my boss handed out ice cream to a couple. She smiled at me and gave my new friend a curious glance, but nothing more than idle curiosity. This was why I loved Geraldine. She was, totally, my idol. The woman truly embraced the laissez faire lifestyle. As long as the people around her were happy with their life, it was live and let live. She was the most nurturing and giving person I knew. In a past life she was a high-power businessman, but eventually gave it all up to live true to herself. So, she moved to San Francisco, opened up a vegan ice cream shoppe (the "e" is important) and any money not put into her business, she spends on philanthropic pursuits or travel.

“I like a tall woman with giant big t--” Sera started, while giving my boss a come-hither look.

“ICE CREAM! Sera loves tall women with giant ICE CREAM” I said loudly. “Geraldine, she hasn’t had vegan ice cream. Ever.”

Geraldine gave Sera a wink and says “Oh Fred you should let her go on, dear.”

“And watch you two make goo-goo eyes at each other? No thanks. We’re here to try your flavor of the week”

“I’d definitely like to try _her_ flavor of the week” Sera adds.

“Ugh, please flirt on your own time.”

“Freddie, you need a lighten up a bit, nothing wrong with good flirt. Makes an old girl feel appreciated,” Geraldine reasoned.

Sera laughs again “Can’t believe I was planning on pranking you.”

“You were planning to prank _me?_ Oh, how interesting. Life is always much more fun with a laugh. You, I like.”

Sera's mouth pops open, " _Heeeeey_!" she looks between me and Geraldine, "She took my line!"

"She must be your spirit animal," I deadpan and Geraldine roared with laughter.

"She's my wot?" Sera asked with a blank look.

 _Sera seems confused. Good. I can make my escape from the flirting._  I roll my eyes and grab the ice cream. “I’m going now, and if you don’t join me Sera, you aren’t getting your ice cream.”

“Hey, wot? I earned that dessert fair and square,” She shouts as she chased after me.

"Enjoy your ice cream, girls" Geraldine called after us. Before she turns back to the next customers (who are clearly amused by the antics of the giant ice cream cone and her cosplaying friend), I gave my boss/idol a wave of acknowledgement.

“Earned it?” I asked incredulously, turning back to Sera.

“Yeah. I broke that rich bitch’s lewy-vitty-bag.”

“I guess that’s true,” I said as I took off the top of my costume and turned off my music as we sat down with the ice cream.

“Here’s to victory over the rich bitches of the world” I raised my ice cream in salute and Sera followed suit, adding “And giant bosoms”.

I sighed and got on with eating my ice cream

I was about to warn Sera not to inhale it, but… too late. And, if I’m being honest, I may have wanted a little revenge for all of her laughing at my ice cream costume and flirting with my boss.

“ARRGGHHHGHH”

I attempted to cover my giggles at her pain. I wasn’t successful.

“Stop laughin’, s’not funny. It friggin’ _hurts_ ”

“It’s called brain freeze. You have to eat cold desserts slowly or it hurts your brain”

“Wot? Hurts my brain, it’s not some witchy magic is it?” She shoved the dessert away and gave it a good glare.

“It’s not magic, it’s--”

 _Aaaaaand she’s gone. That was abrupt, but more dessert for me!_ I was rather happy at the moment I’m probably _not_ crazy (and BONUS! extra dessert for me!). Geraldine had _clearly_ flirted with Sera and I’m not willing to believe I’m really in the crazy bin right now hallucinating everything. Not _yet_ at least. Besides I don’t think my hallucinations or coma dreams could come up with pomegranate and pistachio ice cream topped with a chocolate mole sauce.


	4. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start this chapter post by saying that my heart goes out to the victims of the Pulse nightclub shooting and their loved ones. 
> 
> This country was founded on the ideal that ALL PEOPLE are endowed with “unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
> 
> One man decided certain people did not deserve these rights. He decided they no longer deserved these rights simply because he hated them. As a result of that hate, 50 people have died, and more than 50 have been injured.
> 
> To answer this man’s hate with more hate is a disservice to those that have died. Show your love and support for LGBTQA+ communities that have regularly been denied their life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness because other people are (at the very least) “uncomfortable” with the idea of certain people being true to themselves. This is the best way to combat hate and intolerance.
> 
> Please take a moment or two to reflect on the tragedy and those who lost their lives today in whatever way you are comfortable doing.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for your time.

I couldn’t get to sleep. Usually, I can snag a few hours, but not tonight. I can feel my anxiety rising by the minute. Today had been a pretty good day by my standards, but what was coming was not something I could control. I learned that long ago. It was a demon that scratched itself out of the corner of my mind and took control.  If I don’t do something to cage it again, it might become something more ugly or chain me to the bed for days with self-hating loops of thought. Sitting up, I shifted into a meditative pose and attempted my breathing exercises.

Breathe in 1...2...3...4...5...

_You're a horrible person._

Hold 1...2...3...

_No, I am a good person_

Breathe out 1...2...3...4...5…

_What are you doing with your life?..._

Hold 1...2...3...

_I am doing my best--_

_Hah, “you’re best” anyone could do better with half the effort._

Breathe in 1...2...3...4...5...

_If your dad was alive he would despise you…_

Hold 1...2...3...

_No. My dad loved me…_

_He loved your brother more._

Breathe out 1...2...3...4...5...

_You almost got your brother killed…_

Hold 1...2...3...

_No… I… I..._

Breathe in 1...2...3...4...5...

_Your mother is worse than dead._

Breathe out 1...2...3…4...5...

_It’s all your fault._

Breath in...1...2...3…  “You need to shut up brain. Fuck this.”

I got off the bed, and grabbed the exercise clothes that were littered about the floor. My phone was pulled from it’s charger and my headphones were thrust into my ears as I raced for the door.

This. This is why I don’t sleep. This is why I stay busy. I can’t let my brain have any down time to think about anything. If I do… THIS happens.

At first I just ran. I ran to lose myself and my thoughts. It was blind panic sending me away from my home and a restful night. Eventually, I calmed enough to realize I had not stretched and I shifted my gait into a more reasonable jog. After an agonizingly long warm up, I shifted back into a sane-person’s run and was able to lose myself in the rhythm of my feet. My traitorous thoughts were drowned out by the feel of exertion in my muscles and the sound of footfalls on pavement. The tendrils of anxiety were loosening their hooks and my erratic breathing was stabilizing. I let the percussion of my feet on pavement and the cold night air sap away my panic and frustration. I had calmed enough to turn on my music, further pulling my mind away from my troubled thoughts.

As my mind moved away from dangerous territory, I decided it was time to evaluate where my feet had taken me. The roads and neighborhoods are familiar to me and I trust my feet had not taken me in a direction that was too dangerous. That trust was not misplaced. I was in a high-scale suburban area that I frequented on my runs. I decided to run another block or two and then make my way back to my bed.

_Hopefully, I can get a few hours of sleep before the sun comes up._

_Yeah Fred, like that is gonna happen._

The paved roads and manicured lawns suddenly gave way to dirt paths and a thick forest.

I stopped in my tracks.

_Uhhh.. when did they start putting ancient, overgrown forests in the middle of suburbia?_

I looked behind me and to the sides.

“What the fuck?”

I tried to think of any place I had ever visited that gave off the eerie vibe that this forest did.  The only forests I had ever hiked through was the redwood forest and the Mackinaw State forest when I lived in Michigan. To be completely honest, I didn’t like running through nature. I preferred paved roads. Paved roads didn’t have wildlife waiting to eat you or spiders waiting to descend from trees into your hair.

I looked behind me and to the sides. _Where did the road go? Which way was I facing when I got here? I have no fucking clue where I am._

_Don’t panic Fred. We just got over the whole panicking thing a while ago. THINK. How did you get here?_

_I was running down the road… and then… and then suddenly there wasn’t a road. It was all trees and dir_ _t_. _Like I was suddenly transported to a different place. A different place... a different place like Thedas._

I face-palmed.

“Fuck.”

I let out a huff when no one seemed to hear my exlamation. _At least when those inquisition members get sent to Earth they aren’t alone._

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck. Why me?”

I glanced around my surroundings and noticed that a little ways up the hill I was standing next to was an outcropping of rocks that looked like it might be a cave. Sniffing the air, I could smell smoke. _Maybe someone is home._ I made my way as cautiously as I could toward the cave entrance, but it turns out my caution was unnecessary. When I reached the opening I stumbled over ~~absolutely nothing but my feet~~ the rocks on the ground near the cave entrance ( _I_ swear _there were rocks on the ground!)_ and gracefully landed on my face.

“Well, that was _quite_ the entrance. And here I thought I might have to deal with vicious bandits, not a clumsy damsel.”

 _Why couldn’t I be intangible like The Iron Bull? He didn’t trip over_ ~~_his feet_~~ _anything in my room. Wait!_ I knew that voice. Dorian! _DORIAN!_ I just tripped, flat on my face, in front of one of my favorite people (characters?). _FML_. “No, no. I’m fine. It was all on purpose. I was being adorkable so I wouldn’t...upset any…” I gave him a once over, hoping to give him the impression I deduced his ‘mage-y-ness’ from his clothes and staff. I didn’t want to show the recognition I had with The Iron Bull. Maybe I start off on the right foot with Dorian,  “...twitchy mages.”

Dorian gave an indignant huff at that. “Twitchy? The scion of house Pavus is not _twitchy_ ,” he spat out the word twitchy as if it had personally offended him. “I have been trained since birth to rival the Archon and any magister in the magical arts. The finest tutors in decorum, language, music, and all of the civilized arts have helped mould my person into one of the finest specimens of the modern age. If any adjective is to be applied to my person, it should be _graceful_ or _composed_ . _Charming, handsome,_ and _intelligent_  would not go amiss as accurate descriptors, either.” He ended with a huff and a twirl of his mustache.

_A "twirl of his mustache". My GOD I love this man._

“I will try to keep that in mind, my _magnanimous_ mage-friend,” I quipped with a courtly bow.

“Ooooh! ‘Magnanimous.’ I like that one. We shall add it to the list!”

I giggled at the banter and his own faux-offended expression slipped into a clever, self-satisfied smirk. When my own giggles devolved into a snorting fit, he lost all composure and gave a rich laugh. The mood now less tense, Dorian finally seemed to take in my attire, “Dear Maker! What are you _wearing?_ ”

_A possibly crazy woman enters his secret hidey-hole and Dorian takes time to evaluate the inadequacy of my wardrobe. Did I mention I love this man? No? Well, for the record, I love this man._

I looked at myself. I was in pretty standard running attire for Earth: a laser pink racer back tee, tight and stretchy black leggings, and bright green Nikes with blinding yellow laces. I shrugged my shoulders and tried to evade the question with a joke “If I had known I would be meeting the Scion of House Pavus I would have dressed to impress.” He looked like he wanted to inquire further, but I gave a shake of my head, indicating that I would not say anything more on the subject.

He huffed again, but graciously decided to let it go. He then gestured to his fire “Well it’s getting dark. If you would like to share my fire...? You don’t seem to have any supplies...” He raised his eyebrow in question, but I gave another shake of my head. “It would not be very chivalrous of me to throw a half naked woman out into the forest to fend for herself without any supplies, especially a woman as entertaining as yourself. You are welcome to my company and my food for the night. Although, I might warn you that I am a terrible cook, especially when the culinary options are so few and quite rustic”

I looked back out of the cave, it _was_ getting dark. _When do I come back to my senses and start seeing my world again? Am I in a hospital somewhere? Am I just standing on the sidewalk, drooling? I really hope I’m not drooling._

_Okay, if this is a coma dream would I rather dream of a creepy dark forest alone? Or would I rather dream about having an engaging discussion with Dorian Pavus. Well, that decision is obvious._

_If this IS my new reality, universe hopping and all. Can I do anything about it? Do I WANT to do anything about it?_ I briefly thought of my brother back in San Francisco. _He will wonder why I abandoned him. I felt a deep sadness and ache at the separation, but there is really nothing I can do. Wandering around in a dark strange forest (that possibly has giant spiders that will do more than just get in my hair) probably won’t help get me back_

Dorian looked at me expectantly as I replied “Who am I to turn down a warm fire and such _lovely_ company? Although, I think I’ll decline the offer of food. I uhh… already ate. ” ( _I think his stew was more burnt edges than actual stew.)_

We both smiled awkwardly at each other as we settled in next to the fire. I knew Dorian wanted to find out who I was and what I was doing, but we both knew I wasn’t willing talk about it. It was only a matter of time before the mage’s curiosity and kindness got the better of him. _Hmmm, how can I divert Dorian’s attention. OH! Let’s get him talking about his favorite subject: himself. Evading  hard-to-answer questions with Dorian will be a snap!_ She thought, with naive hope in her heart _._

“So, you are ‘meant to rival the Archon,’ does that mean you’re a mage from Tevinter?”

He gave his spiel differentiating mages, magisters, and the subtle intricacies of tevinter morality or the lack thereof. I waited patiently for him to get it all off his chest “...so I may be a mage from Tevinter, but I am not a magister, nor do I practice blood magic.”

It was a good speech, well rehearsed, informative, and had just the right amount of snark and sarcasm. But, I like to pop other people’s bubbles of happiness, especially when they seem so smug and happy with themselves, call it a personal failing of mine. I gave a small chuckle and decided to flaunt my knowledge of Tevinter a little “So that makes you an Altus, right?”

“No, I am really not a magis… wait, what?” He gave a comical double-take at the subtle knowledge of tevinter society. Clearly, he had given this speech a few times to ignorant southerners and wasn’t prepared to handle a conversation with someone who cared to listen to him.

“You’re an altus. Upper class and magically talented” I gave him a smug smile.

He looked completely miffed at my knowledge of Tevinter terminology. He gave me an accusatory glance and said, warily, “Forgive me. I don’t often run into civilized people this far south.”

Well that backfired. I had hoped to shift focus off of me, but now he was glaring at me like I might be one of his father’s agents, come to drag him back home. Which wouldn't be a completely unreasonable deduction, to be honest. _This must be before he gets to Redcliffe and after he escapes his family. I didn't see a breach in the sky (not that I could really see through the forest’s canopy), so the Inquisition probably hasn’t formed._  We slipped back into an uncomfortable silence. Which is when we both noticed there was music coming out of the headset I had never bothered to turn off.

Dorian started eyeing me again, “What is that _noise?_ ”

I recognized the song as Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” and made a snap decision. _This Dorian doesn’t have a friend in the world._ _He hasn't found his place in the Inquisition, or a purpose in trying to right the wrongs of his countrymen. The father he knew and respected all his life has just been torn away from him. This Dorian thinks he is unlovable. If anyone needs to hear this song right now, it’s Dorian._

I thought fast, what is a convincing lie? “It’s a new...uh... enchantment. It allows me to record and then play back musical performances” _He’s a mage he either won’t question it or be entirely too curious… let’s hope it’s the former_.

“Oh, really? I’ve never heard of such a device. How does it work? Who crafted it for you? I’m usually in the know about new runes and magical devices.”

 _Ugh, I really need stop making plans based on hope. It never goes the way I want it to._ Before he could ask anymore questions I said “A dwarf named Sandal made it for me. Here, you want to give it a listen?” Before he could really give an answer or, more importantly, ask more questions I couldn’t answer, I stuffed one of the earbuds into his ear and the other one in my own.

The song had already started, but I decided to not give Dorian the opportunity to ask more questions by restarting it.

 

... _not welcome anymore._

_Weren't you the one, who tried to hurt me with goodbye?_

_Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die?_

 

_Oh, no, not I, I will survive_

_Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive_

_I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give_

_And I'll survive, I will survive, hey, hey_

 

_It took all the strength I had not to fall apart_

_Kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart_

_And I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself_

_I used to cry but now I hold my head up high_

 

“These lyrics, they uhh…” he started.

“Resonate with your soul?” I made another snap decision and reached over to grab his hand, “Yeah, I know.”

He seemed completely baffled by my words and actions. I could see lightning pass over his other hand, but he didn't pull away ( _or electrocute me, I know you will be relieved to hear)_.

 

_And you see me, somebody new_

_I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you_

_And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free_

_But now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me_

 

_Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now_

_Cause you're not welcome anymore_

_Weren't you the one, who tried to break me with goodbye_

_Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die?_

 

_Oh, no, not I, I will survive_

_Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive_

_I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give_

_And I'll survive, I will survive, oh_

 

_Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now_

_Cause you're not welcome anymore_

_Weren't you the one, who tried to break me with goodbye_

_Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die?_

 

_Oh, no, not I, I will survive_

_Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive_

_I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give_

_And I'll survive, I will survive, I will survive_

 

Dorian looked rather thoughtful and and was obviously lost in memories the song and dug up. _Huh. I wonder how long it has been since he escaped his father’s blood magic_.“You know what, Dorian?”

“Hmmm?”He hummed distractedly in response, the earlier frostiness and suspicion, gone. I grabbed his shoulders so he would look at me. He looked rather shocked, but this  _needs_ to be said _._  “You are courageous man and your father is an asshat. You deserve to love and be loved.”

Before he could dismiss anything or I could feel self-conscious about about my touchy-feely outburst, I grabbed him into a hug. He stiffened at first, but eventually relaxed into the hug.

_I think I heard a sniffle or two, but this is about it for my daily “feels”. I’m not saying anymore unless he starts talking first._

“Well. That was lovely and all, but, my dear, your hand is disappearing.”

I pulled away from the hug, “My what? Is whatting?”

“Your hand. It’s disappearing. And at quite an alarming rate. Is this a novel experience for you?”

_Huh. My hand is actually disapp… and now my arm is disappearing. Awesome. My time in Thedas must be ending. Why couldn’t I get a quick transition like Sera?_

“Uhh… yeah. It’s kind of a new thing that happens to me.”

“Curious. Does it hurt? Should I be doing something? Can I… I don’t know. Maybe stop it from doing that?”

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s sort of tingly. Not the most comfortable of feelings. I don’t think you should stop it. It is probably taking me back home. I have a brother there, you know. He needs me.”

“Ah, well, I see then. Ermm happy travels? Say ‘hello’ to your brother for me. If I see you again, I'll definitely have some questions.”

“No doubt. Stay safe. Don’t let the giant spiders eat you or anything.”

He was about to say something but I didn’t get a chance to hear it. I landed in the middle of my apartment’s parking lot, next to Bertha.

“Well. That’s convenient. Now I don't have to run back home. I'm also talking to myself. Stop it. Sure.”

I rubbed my sore ass and made my way up the stairs to my apartment, too tired and too drained to really decide what to do about my little Thedas problem or evaluate if I could or should do anything about it.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't go the way I had originally planned. But, there it is.


	5. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern aren't Dead, They are Right Here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been trying to update this fic once every 4 days or so, but work has been kicking my arse. I’m so exhausted when I get out, I just want to get horizontal and sleep as soon as I can. Luckily, I have put in my notice so I have some free time coming up soon! Yay!

Welp. I made a plan, and the plan was: talk to someone. Other people see the people from Thedas too, so it’s not just me. I need someone to see them who might actually know the significance of seeing people from Thedas. Someone who might recognize the characters as people not from Earth. Tonight I’m meeting my brother in Seattle for PAX west. So I’m going to drive there, meet him for dinner, hopefully someone from Thedas will show up, and then we can talk about me not being crazy.

If no one from Thedas shows up around my brother, I’ll try and explain about the crazy that is happening to me, while also explaining that I am not crazy.

_Yep. My plans are the best._

Although, I'm pretty sure someone from Thedas is going to show up. I had been seeing people all over lately. Like, just this morning, While I was brushing my teeth, I saw a herd of Thedosian children running through my apartment. They all stopped to stare when they saw me. I just stood and stared at them with my toothbrush in my mouth and toothpaste running down my chin. Eventually, they came to their senses, screamed, and ran off. And since they ran off through the wall, they probably weren’t completely on Earth. _Good thing._ _I don’t want to become an interdimensional kidnapper._  

 

 *** 

 

While I was loading up Bertha for the trip, a couple of workmen appeared, lifting some rather heavy crates. One of the laborers set down his crate and stretched his back with a yawn. We made eye contact. He immediately started thumping the arm of his cohort, “Phil, PHIL! It’s that ghost those knife-eared whelps were talking about!”

‘Phil’ dropped his crate and jumped when he saw me. Lifting my hand, I gave them a nervous wave. This non-threatening gesture seemed to embolden Phil, “You--You’re not supposed to be here. G-g-get away from here foul spirit. To the fade with you.” He made a rather insulting shooing motion at me, like I was a cat.

“Uhhh…” Was all I could muster.

“Go find a templar, Spence.”

“Wouldn’t a mage better know how to banish a spirit to the fade?” Spence, rebutted while turning away from me to face Phil. Clearly preparing for an argument.

“Look, Spence. I know you are all friendly with the mages now, but Templars are better at fighting demons! We need the templars to--”

“We ‘ _need_ the templars?’ ” Asked Spence with a petty mimicking tone. “Plenty of mages walking around here and there haven’t been any abominations or blood magic. One of them even healed my Em. I think a mage could handle this just as well, no-no, BETTER than any templar ‘round here.”

“Whatchu mean ‘No abominations around’? What do you call that?” Phil gestured in my direction. “That is something out of the fade _right there_. If you ask me, some mage is responsible.”

“Uhhh.. I’m not an abomination. Not everything out of the fade is an abomination, anyway.” Both men seemed to be ignoring me now, though. I kinda just stared dumbly at the two arguing workers. It was entertaining, to say the least. I was hoping to find out if one of them would actually come to his senses and find a real magical authority.  _But why find real answers when you can just get in a petty argument, amirite?_

“ _Clearly_ that is NOT an abomination, Phil. It hasn’t attacked us. Abominations are mindless beasts that attack whoever they see as soon as they see it.”

“That mage that blew up the chantry in Kirkwall was an abomination.” Phil seemed smug at finally getting one over on Spence. “He pretended to be a good little mage until he blew up the chantry, didn’t he? Sometimes those abominations are clever.”

“I’m not entirely convinced that Anders was an abomination. He might have just been a bloke who was tired of what was happening to the mages. I lived in Kirkwall, almost 10 years, I did. What they did to those mages… It just wasn’t right.”

“Magic was made to---” Phil started.

“If you say ‘serve man’ I will punch you in the face. I have heard that phrase too many times in my lifetime to hear it repeated by the likes of you.”

A templar appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “What are you two simpletons arguing about now? Get back to work. That lyrium was supposed to be stacked an hour ago.”

The templar's interruption seemed to knock the two to their senses.

“See now Spence, a templar is here and we can fix our problem,” Phil stated. “We stopped working, ser templar, because of that ghost over there” He pointed in my direction.

“I don’t want anymore excuses I don’t care if you saw a giant nug we--”

“This is what you get when you talk to a Templar” Spence gloated. “Turn your bucket head around. There’s a ghost just watchin’ and starin’ all creepy-like over there _and_ I think she might be laughing at you, ser templar.”

The templar finally turned around and I gave a wave with an amused smile on my face. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. But, before I could find out if the templar could do anything to send me back to my world, the three figures disappeared.

 _Huh. Phil and Spence aren’t part of Dragon Age lore as far as I know. Thedas isn’t just a story. It has real people living their real lives in some alternate reality/world thingy._ The mundane encounter made the whole thing feel more real than any of my previous meetings. The inner circle characters were people in my head, people I got to know. If I was crazy, my mind would be able to regurgitate them, but these characters were completely new. They had their own personalities and were doing their own menial labor. It doesn't seem likely that my delusional brain would think up something so mundane.

 

***

 

I hadn’t seen anymore people from Thedas in hours, let alone a pair as funny as Phil and Spence. Maybe I was just driving too fast for them to say hello?

To test my theory, and to get some much needed fuel, for me _and_ Bertha, I pulled into a gas station: No luck while I filled Bertha, maybe while I’m inside...?

I found some unsweetened tea ( _sorry, but sweetened tea is just gross_ ), and was perusing the chip selection when a purple-hooded redhead and a much taller figure with golden, curly hair walk down the next aisle.

_Huh, there’s something that you don’t see everyday._

I raced over to the next aisle, but the pair had already passed through the shelves into the next over. I race over one more aisle and called out “Cullen! Leliana!” Both of them were in deep discussion and looked rather annoyed at the interruption.  Well, the annoyance swiftly shifted to shock and wariness when they realized who had called out to them. Cullen pulled out his sword with the lightning quick reflexes of a templar faced with the unknown, but Leliana stepped forward before he could skewer me.

“So you are the spirit that has been haunting our encampment. I have been getting the strangest reports, but did not entirely believe them until this moment.”

She inclined her head toward the commander, but did not let me out of her sight “Cullen, this is--”

Aaaaaaannnnd they’re gone. From the look on the cashier (who I am now staring directly in the eyes) I don't think she saw Cullen or Leliana. _Just me this time…_

I let out a sigh and take my things up to the check out. “Sorry. I thought some people I knew were in the store with me,” I said with an embarrassed chuckle.

She gave me an indulgent smile and a ‘this lady is cray-cray’ look and didn't say anything back. I don’t think she was totally convinced by my impromptu explanation to yelling things at her. Once my food was paid for, I hurried out of the store. Hopefully, she didn’t hit the silent alarm or anything. Last thing I need is to tell the cops why I was yelling out random names and scaring poor gas station clerks.

 

***

 

The rest of the trip was uneventful. When I got to Seattle I thought about how much I would love to stop at the hotel first and clean up a bit, but I was already running late as it was. So, I headed directly to the restaurant Garrett and I were meeting at.

The restaurant was a compromise between my brother and I. It’s a bistro that offered vegan fare for me as well as organic meat options for my brother ( _“How can you live without bacon?!” “I make do, Gare. I make do.” *eyeroll*_ ). ‘Modern-boho’ was how I would describe the decor when I stepped through the door. It had an eclectic variety of furniture that somehow came together to create a cohesive whole. Every surface, that wasn't  for eating, had some variety of plant with lights littered through them. If I wasn’t so distracted trying to find my brother, the decor would get an A+ on the Fred scale of awesomeness.

“Meeting someone here?” the host asked, trying to get my attention.

“Yeah, I’m looking for my brother” I replied distractedly. “He’s a big bear of a man. Usually sporting a cave-man beard.”

“Ah, yes. He’s the one that asked about the bacon.”

“Yep. That’s him.”

“Right this way”

When I finally saw my brother I let out a squee of delight and ran past the host “Gare-bear!”

Garrett stood up with his arms open wide for a hug “Winnie-Pooh!” As his 6’2” frame engulfed me, the host and the other customers chortled at our antics before going back to their meals.

“You got shorter Winnie,” He joked.

“No. You got taller, little brother,” I replied with a smile.

“Aaand you’re late. I need some bacon, you ready to order?”

“Uhhh, no? I just got here. Hold your horses.”

“I would, but I don’t have any and don't horses freak you out?”

“Pff, stop being a smart-ass,” I ignored the horse jab. 

“Sorry, not sorry. I was made to lord my intelligence over the lowly peons of this world”

I gave an eyeroll as we both sat down, “And am _I_ one of the ‘lowly peons’ of the world?”

“No, you just like to tell me what to do. So I have to get back at you somehow.”

I waited a beat before replying, “Yeah, you’re right.”

I was indulging in our comedic segue a bit, I wanted to put off the ‘I might be crazy’ portion of tonight’s discussion. To get the topic of conversation even further away from myself and my problems,  I quickly asked about how he is doing. Gare-Bear launched into a discussion about pre-PAX preparations and livestreams he had been doing. My eyes glazed over a little bit, but I love my brother and he loves this stuff, so I tried to keep up. After we finished our meal ( _yes, he finally got his bacon_ ) he turned the discussion to me and what I’ve been doing. _I think he might have noticed I’ve been avoiding the topic of ‘me’._

“So, what have you been up to, Winnie-Pooh?”

“I still dress as a delicious vegan ice cream for a living, and I am still volunteering at Habitat for Humanity and that crisis line.” _Yep, keep it short. Maybe he’ll go back to talking about that live-stream_.

He crossed his arms and glared at me “Alright. What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong’? There’s absolutely, positively, nothing _wrong_. Everything is fine. Not just fine, it's GREAT. If there was something wrong, I would tell you. Everything is perfectly normal. Ice cream and all. I mean, I did eat pomegranate and pistachio ice cream topped with a chocolate mole sauce which was weirdly compelling. I mean have you ever eaten pomegranate and pistachio ice cream topped with a chocolate mole sauce? It’s surprisingly good...”

“Oh shit,” He interrupted. “Now I know something is seriously wrong. A short and detail free answer followed by a long rambly one? Something serious must have happened. Fess up, Freddie-Pooh. What’s going on?”

 _Ugh, he knows me too well._ “Okay. Let me start off by saying I’m not crazy. The things I’ve seen? Other people have seen them too. So I can’t be crazy.”

“Stop beating around the bush, Fred. You aren’t crazy, I get it. Well, not crazier than usual. Now, get on with it.”

“Okay, it all started--”

Someone cleared his throat. A someone who was standing awkwardly close for what was  _clearly_ a private conversation between my brother and I.

My brother looked away from me to find the source of the disturbance. His eyes narrowed as he is met with blue eyes and a dumbfounded look.  “Keep walking, Skyrim, my sister has something important to tell me.”

 _Noooo. It can’t be._ “That isn’t a Skyrim cosplayer, Gare.”

“Do I really care what kinda cosplayer he is? He’s interrupting my big sis when she has something important to tell me.”

“Well if you had played the last game of Dragon Age or the first one for that--”

“I played the prologue in that one. Besides, I’m too busy with other games. Games that I get paid to play.”

“Whatever. If you had played it, you would know that he’s wearing Dragon Age armor, and he might as well stay, because he’s part of what I have to tell you about. He’s ‘Interrupting Jim’.”

“‘Jim’? You know this cosplayer? Is he your boyfriend or something? Is that what this is about?”

“Interrupting Jim? My boyfriend? Ugh, no.” I said as I scrunched my face in disgust.

Jim looked rather offended at that, “If anyone actually cares, my name isn’t Jim, it’s--”

“No one cares, Skyrim. Let my sister speak.”

 _My brother just interrupted interrupting Jim. Nice_. While I marveled at the irony of the situation, Jim (or whatever his real name was) popped out of existence with the offended grimace still on his face.

My brother stood up and looked wildly around, “What?”

A few customers started to stare at him and I yanked on his shirt “Sit down, before you cause a scene.”

He refused to budge, “ME? Cause a scene?! Where did Skyrim go? What just happened? People don’t just disappear. He’s the one that caused the scene.”

“I keep trying to tell you: he’s NOT from Skyrim. And I know, Gare. Sit down and I’ll try to explain.”

His frantic eyes finally met my steady gazed. He relaxed, to a degree, when he saw that I wasn’t freaking out about Jim and finally sat down.

I was a little grateful for Jim and his timely interruption. His appearance and disappearance would lend credence to my story. I let Gare know how it started; with noises and shadows in the corner of my eye. Informing him about my meeting with The Iron Bull went over well (especially since I left out the whole ‘I was practically naked’ part, my little brother can be overprotective sometimes) and continued on with the other meetings with characters over the past few days. _He seemed completely dumbfounded, but having seen Jim, first hand, he couldn’t NOT believe me, right?_

“Well. I guess we are just going to have to throw you in the looney bin.”

I stared blankly at my brother and he stared blankly back. His face eventually broke into an impish grin, and I punched him in the arm.

“Heeeey. What was that for?”

“For being a jerk, that’s what. I thought I had been going crazy for days and I finally open up to someone I love and he thinks it’s funny to treat it like a joke. Not cool.”

“Okay, okay, but the look on your face was worth it.” He smiled at me again, this time with a little bit of worry in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say Winnie. You say you are seeing characters from a video game,” I gave him a glare at the implication that it was just me seeing things and that I might be crazy. “Okay, let me revise. Characters from a video game are visiting you. I uhh… just don’t know what to say to that..”

The way he phrased it brought up something I hadn’t really thought about. Sometimes the people from Thedas are tangible, sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes people from Earth see them, and sometimes they don’t. But there was one constant: all of it was centered around _me._  What had changed about _me_ that brought a part of Thedas to Earth and vice versa?

“So… no one else has been seeing video game characters?”

“Are you kidding? I would be all over that if they were.”

_He’s right. If the fictional world of Thedas and Earth were melding together, other people would have seen it. It would be blowing up on the internet._

As I attempted to puzzle it over, trying to find out _why_ this was happening to just me, Gare cleared his throat, “Well as neither of us are experts on inter-dimensional travel _or_ magic. I don’t think we can fix it and I don’t think telling anyone else will be helpful in keeping you out of a mental facility or some secret government facility. Let’s just sleep on it and see if it goes away.”

I glare at him, but concede that he’s right. We were both exhausted and he had a panel to present tomorrow. “Alright little brother. Let’s get you rested up for your big day. Hopefully all this weirdness just stops” I ruffled his hair while I could still reach it.

He stood up immediately and blushed at being treated like a kid “Not so little anymore, Winnie.”

I smiled at him “You’ll always be my little Gare-Bear. Do you need a ride back to the hotel?”

“And sacrifice all dignity by sitting behind you on your Bertha? Pass. I think I’ll find an Uber.”

“Your loss. Bertha misses you, though.”

He rolled his eyes and we walked together through the restaurant. It only took a few minutes for his Uber to arrive, but I waited with him. As we hugged goodbye I whispered “Bertha isn’t the only one who misses you.”

“I know”

With that we parted ways for the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every story needs a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern! Phil and Spence are mine. I’ll probably bring them back throughout the story. I had a lot of fun writing them.
> 
> I’m probably going to have Fred meet/see just a few more people from Thedas before she actually gets there. The actual falling into Thedas part is probably 3 chapters away (this beginning is getting away from me a bit, but there is a purpose, I swear!)
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	6. Fred Gets a Nickname! Or, You Know, Doesn't.

That night in my hotel room, I couldn't get to sleep. Finally around one a.m. I decided to go for a run to try and clear my head. Stumbling around in the dark, I found my exercise clothes and pulled out my running shoes from a separate compartment in the bottom of my bag. I grabbed my glasses, my phone, and bent over to tie my shoes. As I headed for the door, I hunted through my phone to find some music. I didn’t think I would really have to watch where I was walking when I was alone in a sparse hotel room. Apparently, I should have been paying more attention because I  walked head first into some metal bars.

“Oh, ouch! Fuck, that hurt.” I said as I rub my forehead and straightened my glasses.

“Oh, yeah. It looked like it did.”

I paused. There was someone just behind me. _What?_  The pain faded enough for me to look around at my surroundings. “Those bars weren’t here before.”

“And neither were you. You mind telling me how you got here and who you are? Maybe mention how the two of us might _get out_ while you are at it. If you aren’t here to kill me, that is.”

I looked behind me to see who was talking to me. Instead of seeing a hotel bed, I am greeted by a glorious carpet of chest hair. “Oh, chest hair.”

“Eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” I shook my head to clear it. “Sorry, rude. You are Dwarf, not eye candy. I’m Fred, by the way.”

“Fred. That’s an interesting name for a lady.” He arched his eyebrow, clearly sensing a story.

“Oh no. I’m not telling you the whole thing. You’ll probably hold it over my head and torture me with it. I already have my brother for that.”

“Fred isn’t the whole thing, then? And the whole name is embarrassing? Interesting.”

“Yeah. What? No. Fred is it. Fred is all you are getting.”

“Come now. We are cell mates now. If you can’t trust your fellow prisoner with your deepest, darkest secrets, who can you trust?”

“I... that’s not how that works. You read too much. Or write too much. Probably both.”

He let out a chuckle “You’ve got me there.” An awkward pause seeps its way into the prison. Varric cleared his throat. “I’m Varric, by the way, Varric Tethras. You can hold your applause until we address the more serious problem at hand. Do you mind telling me how you found yourself to be in _my_ cell?”

 _Hmm... where to begin?_ “It’s a long story.”

He gestured around the cell “I seem to have some time on my hands and I enjoy a good story…”

 _Should I tell him? Tell him_ everything? _I told my brother on Earth what was going on and it’s so easy to put my trust into Varric. I feel like I know him._ “You probably won’t believe me,” I said to test the waters.

“You would be surprised what this dwarf could believe. I’ve seen some crazy shit. For example: a girl appearing out of thin air in my cell. A cell supposedly protected by the most paranoid left hand of divine of all time, who probably has the place warded against magic. Not to mention that girl’s name is Fred. And, to top it all off, I’m in aforementioned cell because I’m waiting to tell a story to the divine, no less. Hit me with your best crazy, I can probably take it.”

I blushed, “Well, when you put it like that… I guess I could give it a shot.” He patted the pallet next to him and I settled in next to the dwarf.

“You are taking this better than most people I have met from Thedas. Usually accusations of me being a demon or an abomination thrown about. Some sort of wariness or suspicion is involved at the very least…maybe some fear.” I gave Varric a sidelong glance.

“You want me to be afraid of the unarmed woman who made her grand entrance by ramming her head into the cell bars?”

I blushed again.

“No. I’ve seen enough monsters, the fade kind and the person kind. I know when to run for the hills. No offense, kid, but you don’t exactly have me shaking in my boots.” He gently patted my arm as if he was comforting me after breaking some pretty hard news.

We sat like that for a beat before I started to feel a little awkward. So I switched topics, “By the way, you can’t call me ‘kid’ that’s going to be someone else’s nickname and I’m not _that_ young." (I'm 27) "You’ll have to work harder Master Tethras.”

“Is that so?” He raised both his eyebrows “I think this story might be more interesting than I thought. Is time travel involved?”

“What? Time travel? I… don’t think so? Why would your mind jump immediately to ‘time travel’?

“You said that I will nickname someone else ‘kid’. I don’t even know anyone that I would even consider calling ‘kid’. So, it must be someone I meet in the future.”

“You would remember him. He sticks out in a crowd. Or… maybe you wouldn’t 'cause he does that thing?”

“Yeah, that cleared everything right up.” Varric deadpanned.

“Look, I don’t exactly ask the people I meet from Thedas for the current date, but I can probably guess the general timeline of events and where I’m at. It all _seems_ to line up in a linear way. Clearly, judging from your situation, the conclave is about to happen. The big meeting arranged by the Divine to broker peace between mages and templars, right?”

“You would have to be living under a rock to not know about that. But let’s backtrack a bit. ‘The people you meet from Thedas’ are you from somewhere that _isn’t_ Thedas...? Across the Amaranthine Ocean? I find that hard to believe, even with my generous imagination.”

“Uhh... no. Not from across the Amaranthine Ocean.”

He chortled at that, “That would be hard to believe. From the north, maybe? You’re accent is hard to place. Either you have spent a lot of time with dwarves or--”

“I’m not from this world.”

He started outright laughing at that. “Good one, joker.” I waited patiently for the laughter to end. Eventually, he wiped a tear away from his eye and noticed I wasn’t joining in. That seemed to sober him a bit. “You.. you can’t be serious.”

“First of all: ‘Joker’ that is a _terrible_ nickname. Second: I AM serious. And third: ‘Joker ’? are you kidding me? That sounds like someone’s idea of a nickname for themselves in a terrible fanfiction.”

“Okay. ‘Joker’ is pretty terrible. Give it time. I’ll think up a good one. Now… I’m going to stop trying to guess and just let you tell your story.”

“Why, thank you, Varric” I cleared my throat, “I’m not from this world.”

I paused, waiting for the dwarf to jump in, but he just nodded for me to go on. “But my world knows about Thedas. Where I come from there are these… stories. Now, you have to understand. The technology we have is far more advanced than what Thedas has. We have ways of communicating across the world in an instant. We have ways of traveling many miles in a matter of minutes. We can even fly. All without magic.” Varric gave a disbelieving scoff at that, but I returned his scoff with an exasperated look of my own one that said 'c'mon you were giving me the benefit-of-the-doubt here'. He lifted his hands in an ‘okay, okay I’ll be quiet’ gesture.

“This technology also has invaded our arts. Stories aren’t just in books or in a play. We have different mediums to express them. Performances can be recorded and replayed, images can be made to move to act out a scene, worlds that can only be conceived of in the imagination can be brought to reality.” At this point Varric was gaping at me a little, I could see the gears churning in his head as he tried to wrap his head around what I was telling him. “One such medium is what we call a video game.” Varric’s eyes narrowed at ‘game’ but I ignored it and pressed on. “In a video game you can make yourself the protagonist of the story, make the hard decisions, and shape the way the game ends. The series about your world is called Dragon Age. In the first installment you make yourself the grey warden that stops the blight in Ferelden. In the second installment, you play as Hawke as he or she flees the blight.” His jaw tightened at the mention of Hawke. “The third one is about what is about to happen, hence, the future knowledge. No time travel involved.”

“Well. You tell a good story, but is any of it true?” His eyes are narrowed, and his face was stony.

“I know about Bianca.”

“Everyone knows about Bianca. She was in my _Tale of the Champion._ ”

“Not the crossbow. The woman who--”

“Stop. Just stop. I don’t talk about that for a reason. I _especially_ don’t talk about it in a dungeon where anyone could be listening.”

“I--I’m sorry Varric, I--”

“So this is all just a game for you. All the shit Hawke went through. All the shit _I_ went through? Is entertainment. How much damage could you do with what you know?”

“It’s not like that. It’s... I love these stories. My heart bled for Hawke when he lost his mother. When your brother…”

“No. you don’t get to talk about those things.”

I shut my mouth after that, completely at a loss for words. I had just bandied about the worst moments of the past couple of years in his life, but.. “Didn’t you write a book about it all? AND profit from it? Isn’t this whole thing a little hypocritical?”

“That’s different. The personal things stay personal. I wouldn’t do that to a friend, especially not a friend as good as Hawke,” he rebutted icily.

 _I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little scared right now_. _Even without Bianca, I’m pretty sure this dwarf could kick my ass._

I thought fast, “Well, I’m not sharing these things with other people, I’m sharing them with _you_. Even if you don’t know me, I know you. I would never share these things with other people. I would never do that to someone, especially not someone as good as you, Varric.” My eyes began to tear up a little and I smiled tentatively at him.

He waited, scrutinizing my answer to see if it was genuine. Eventually he reciprocated with a sad smile of his own, “It’s ‘she’. Hawke is a woman.”

_It was a test then, I think I passed...?_

“I’m guessing these video _games_ no-no... _stories,_ you should definitely call them stories if you tell anyone else from Thedas, where you get to become the protagonist, aren’t limited in gender?” he asked.

I shook my head. “The first and the third aren’t even limited in race. If you want you can be an elven circle mage, a dwarven noble, a Qunari Vashoth, and other combinations.”

“It’s weird to think of Hawk as a man.” The idea seemed to roll around his head and the expression on his face shifted to one of disgust. He then shook his head vigorously, as if to remove offending thoughts.“But she would sure get a kick out of it,” he said with sigh and a chuckle.

 _Ah, a humourous female Hawke, I can dig it._  “So... you believe me then?”

“It’s a far-fetched story, I can tell you that," He started and I began to frown, “But I like to think of myself as a good judge of character, and you are a terrible liar.”

I let out a sigh of relief. It meant a lot to me that someone from Thedas actually knew what was going on with me, especially someone that might be on my side, if I ever needed it and… “Hey! I can _totally_ lie! All I need to lie is a little bit of preparation and a really good reason to do it. I don’t lie when I don’t have to and I don’t do it to a friend.”

 _He’s laughing at me again!_ “Sure you can lie. I believe you.” He said with a placating gesture. “But, anyway, back to important matters. How do we get out of this cell?”

“Uhhh.. you probably don’t want to.”

“Why would I _want_ to stay?” 

 _Oops._ _How much should I tell him? Honesty. Honesty. Honesty. Fictional characters always get into trouble when they lie. I should start off on a positive note with Varric, but I can't tell him too much or it might screw up the future. Hmmm..._

“Shit is going to go sideways at the conclave. You definitely don’t want to be anywhere near it when it does.”  _Vague is good. Vague is honest and vague doesn't give mess up the timeline._

“Maybe I should be there before ‘shit goes sideways’? I’m stealing that line, by the way.”

“No-no. You need to be there for the clean up. If you change where you are at the time it happens or try and warn someone, you might end up face down in the dirt.”

I paused for thought. _Was I being vague to protect him or me?_ _Did_ _I just want to save one of my favorite characters? With my foreknowledge, didn’t I have a responsibility to save as many people as I could? Can I take all those lives on my conscience if I didn’t? Maybe I should warn someone. Maybe they could stop Corypheus. Warning Leliana and Cassandra about what happens to the Divine might save a lot of lives and not just at the conclave. If the Divine survives, maybe the templar/mage conflict won’t be so bad. Was this just me wanting the story to go the way it already had?_

 _No. No. What happened at the conclave could have ended a lot worse. Corypheus having the anchor on his hand might destroy all of Thedas. Maybe I could just warn them to evacuate some of the people? No. I can’t do that either. What if the future Herald is evacuated and isn’t there to take the anchor from Corypheus? I steeled myself for the eventual guilt of leaving hundreds of people to die._  “Trust me, it’s all going to work out in the end… and… and I’m sorry for what happens, but if it doesn’t happen this way, it might end up happening in a way that ends even worse. ‘End of the world’ kind of worse.”

Varric seemed like he was about to argue, but noted my serious tone and obvious moral floundering. He closed his mouth and nodded his head. “Alright, I’m going to trust you on this. But, remember, if this doesn’t end well, I have a quill and I know how to use it.”

I threw my head back dramatically and flung my forearm across my forehead. With my best southern belle accent replied “I do believe you are threatening me, Master Tethras! How will my poor, delicate, feminine sensibilities ever make it through the night? My favorite dwarf turns out to be a cad and a brute, how _will_ I go on?”

Varric was visibly struggling to hold back his laughter, “I think I’ll keep you, world-hopper.”

“Too long and too on the nose.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I thought I would try it out.”

We both went silent for a while, Varric was probably trying to figure out a nickname (or maybe trying to figure out what might happen at the conclave), and I'm feeling a little uncomfortable.  Despite what you might think, the discomfort wasn’t just from sitting on a thin pallet in a stone jail cell. No. It was something else.

“What’s wrong...Poppy?”

“Poppy? Did you seriously just call me ‘Poppy’?!”

“Well you sort of… popped into existence? Yeah, sorry I’m even more ashamed of that one than ‘joker’. Forget that one ever happened, what’s wrong?”

“Well… now is about the time that I usually, you know, ‘pop’ back to my world.”

He grimaced at my wording “I told you to forget that one. But, don’t you have some way to, I don’t know, control it? Maybe you could take me with you and I could explore that instead of enjoying all this waiting-to-be-interrogated that I’ve been doing lately.”

“I would if I could. It seems to be just random, but there never is a whole lot of waiting around and I have never brought someone with me. Usually Someone from Thedas comes to see me, or I go and see them, we have a conversation and then POP I’m back to my daily life.” _Actually that’s not 100% true. The first few times I had seen people we didn’t even have a conversation. The time I was with Bull, we  didn’t even really get through the introductions let alone 'end' of a conversation..._ _The time I spend in Thedas seems to be growing..._

“I told you to drop that nickname.”

“Nope. NEVER going to happen.”

He rolled his eyes “Well, you look exhausted.” I was probably sporting dark bags under my eyes and I was starting to feel all those restless nights from the past few weeks. “You might as well take this time to try and get some sleep. There isn’t much else to do in here and I need some time to think of a proper nickname anyway, maybe redeem myself a little.” He scooched over to give me some more of the pallet and I eyed it warily.

“I know the accommodations aren’t great, but it’s mostly bug free and relatively clean.”

“Oh, well, if it’s _mostly_ bug free…” I said sarcastically but went to lay down. “If I’m not here in the morning I’m probably back in my world, sleeping on a real bed. A real bed that is completely bug free and recently laundered.”

“Lucky you.” With that I let sleep take me.

 

***

 

I woke up with a start. My cell phone alarm hadn’t gone off, buy my internal clock and the sun outside were both telling me I had to be awake. My neck and shoulder both ached from sleeping with just a thin mat between myself and the stone floor, but I was in a bed now, a hotel bed. _Apparently I can world hop in my sleep._  I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and looked at the time. It was almost 10:00AM. I rolled over and snuggled back into my pillow.

_Shit! ShitShit!!!_

My eyes shot open and I bolted upright. It _’s almost 10! My brother’s panel starts at 11:30 and I still have to fight the traffic to get there._

I briefly considered skipping my morning shower, but stopped to sniff myself. _Ugh I smell like a medieval dungeon_. I decided that as long as the shower was under 10 minutes I could squeeze it in. No time to tame my short hair, though (It has a natural curl to it, but for my asymmetrical pixie cut to look good, I need time to straighten it). After I got cleaned and dressed, I decided it might be best to keep my bag close. It had clothes, toiletries, and a few survival things in it that I may need if I get trapped in Thedas. It wasn’t something I was planning on, but my last visit was a little too lengthy for my liking.  _What if next time I end up in the middle of nowhere and I don't have any supplies?_  I also had this weird feeling that everything I do here for the next couple of days was 'final'. Something big was coming and I wanted to be prepared for it when it does does. I slung the giant bag over my shoulder and raced out of my room and through the hotel lobby.

By the time I made it to Bertha, I only had about 40 minutes to get to the convention, find parking, and get to my brother's panel. Luckily, Bertha and I were experts at weaving through traffic. Unfortunately, the closest parking spot I could find was almost half a mile from the front doors of the convention center. I quickly cut Bertha's engine, put down her kickstand, and rushed towards the front door. In my rush, I almost forgot to take off my helmet. When I finally struggled through getting it off, I was greeted by a familiar face.

“Varric! You made it!" I greeted him as though we had planned this meeting, days in advance. I also pulled him into a hug and smooched his cheek. "Your free and out of the cell and straight into my world.”

“Heh, yeah. Sh--Fred, it’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too. It’s been like what? 5 hours?”

“Yeah something like that.” He turned his head and glanced behind him as if searching for something or someone. When dragged his head back to face me, his eyes held a deep sadness and... guilt? It was a look that didn't make sense.

“What is it Varric?" I tried to find what he was looking at, but couldn't see anything that would put that look on someone's face. Just cars and a few people making their way to the convention. 

“Oh, nothing. Your world is just so different. Am I going to stick out? Do I need a disguise?” Just as the words left his mouth, a canoodling couple walked by us. They were holding hands and rubbing noses as they went. To my extreme amusement, the couple also happened to be cosplaying as male and female Hawkes.

When they saw Varric they both waved exuberantly. The Female Hawke even called out to the dwarf “Hey Varric! Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man later?”

Varric looked too dumbfounded to reply, but I noded my head for him and gave the two Hawkes a thumbs up.

“Nah, you’ll be fine. Just tell everyone your real name is Peter or something, if they ask.” I pulled out my phone to check the time. We had about ten minutes to get to my brother’s panel. “Varric.”

“Yes Fred?” He was still staring at the Dragon Age cosplayers.

“Did I ever tell you that I am a very proud big sister?” The smile on my face broadened.  _I love gushing about my brother_.

“Uh, no. I don’t believe you have.”

“I practically raised him. He’s very into video games and even has a job doing… stuff with them” _It was hard enough to explain twitch streaming and Let’s Plays to people who don’t play video games, I’m not even going to try with Varric._ “Today he’s going to be talking to a bunch of people at a conference and stuff. Want to come with me?” My smile is so wide it is hurting my face.

Varric smiled back indulgently “I would love to, Fred.”

“Kay. I’m just going to send him a text so he isn’t freaking out that I’m not there yet.”

“Send him a--? You know what, never mind, I’m just going to go with it.”

“That’s probably for the best. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Varric mumbled something, but I didn’t catch it. We both headed for the entrance as I texted my brother.

 

 

 

> **Me:** _Sry im late but i brought a friend :)_
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _I’m* and ABOUT TIME. Who is it?_
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _No wait, don’t tell me. I like surprises._
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _I’ll meet you out front._
> 
> **Me:** _Why would you correct im but not sorry? Or the punctuation? Stop trying to be a smartass all the time._
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _I like being right._
> 
> **Me:** _Also u know this one. C u soon._
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _I know him/her? Cool beans._
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _You guys here yet? I have seats reserved for you, but I can’t be late for my own panel…_
> 
> **Me:** _We’ll be there in 5 mins, cool your jets. this parking lot is fucking huge_
> 
> **Gare-Bear:** _(user is typing… … … )_

 

I put my phone away. _This whole conversation is ridiculous, I’ll just talk to him when I get there_. Varric and I finally round the corner of the building and see a big crowd gathered out front. “Huh. They must be late opening the doors. Good thing I have a connection.” But for some reason fear grips my heart. I look at my phone again to see that Garrett has stopped typing but he never sent a text. The fear that something is wrong starts to grow, but I push it aside. _He probably just stopped texting to talk with someone or something like that_.  _I'll see him in a minute._

“Fred I need to--” Varric started but a scream interrupts him.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Someone shouted.

“Fred...” Varric started again, but I don’t really hear it. All I can feel is dread heavy in my stomach like a stone.

I started running. Some instinct was telling me I had to hurry; something was terribly wrong.

“FRED!” Varric shouted at my back

I pushed through the crowd in front of the doors. People slowly parted to let me through. It wasn't fast enough so I pushed harder. “GARRETT!!” I screamed. “LET ME THROUGH” I could feel my throat tearing.

I finally made my way through the crowd and practically fell on top of my brother. It was all wrong. All I can think is _That’s not my brother. That’s not MY brother._ _This person’s throat is slashed open and there is blood everywhere. My brother doesn’t have that. How could he make fun of my name if he can’t use his throat?  This can’t be my brother._

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and a whispered “Fred…”.

  
I attempted to shrug the hand off of my shoulder. _I don’t need comfort. That’s NOT my brother. The hand should be comforting the sister of that dead boy on the ground. Not me._ It wasn't until my shaky hand reached out to the dead boy’s hair to brush back the shaggy mop of hair and straighten the glasses on his face that it finally connected. This dead boy was my brother. My brother was dead.


	7. To Be or Not to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I owe you guys a suicidal ride through stormy weather, yeah? I wanted to post this chapter yesterday so you guys wouldn't be left hanging, but it just wasn't ready.
> 
> Please note the tag changes. Fred does deal with some heavy emotional stuff including the contemplation of suicide.
> 
> **So I didn't really edit this as well as I should, but I posted it already. Please ignore grammatical stuff. I'll get to it eventually. Maybe. If something doesn't make sense, let me know.

The last joy, the last reason to live had been ripped away from my life. I felt my heart ripping to shreds and then sinking into the deepest depths of despair. A question starts niggling in my mind and if it weren’t for that question, I might have just withered away right there. Lain down next to my brother, never to get up again.

_How?_

With that question comes more questions: _Who? Why?_ These questions ignite the remains of my heart into a rage, a rage that burns away the tendrils of despair. _My brother’s throat has been torn out, as if by a claw. It is jagged and grotesque. Someone or something did this to my Garrett._

“How?” I start off in a dangerously low whisper. No one seems to hear the question.

I stand up abruptly, loathe to leave my brother’s side, but there is only one thing I can do for him now. People notice my movement and there is silence. I wait until I have their undivided attention. “How did this happen? Who did this to my brother?” I screech at them.

They all looked shocked and scared. No one says a word, that’s not what I need. I take a breath and say more calmly, “Someone or some _thing_ killed my brother. People don’t just get their throat torn out in the middle of daylight without a witness. One of you saw something.”

Still, no one speaks. “Please. I need to know,” I beg them.

“I--I think…” Someone starts behind me. I rounded to face him. He was a teenager, couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen. He was wearing an 11th doctor shirt. It even had a name tag on it stating he was ‘here to help’.

“You saw what did this?” I ask him as gently as I could, but the words still came out sharp, even to my ears.

“I don’t know. It-it doesn’t make sense.”

“My brother is dead, that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me either…" My voice is becoming hysterical so I stop myself. I attempt to swallow my rage, this kid doesn't deserve it. "Just-just tell me what you saw.”

At first he didn’t seem like he would be willing to share what he saw, but seemed to stumble upon some courage, “He was just standing there at first, texting to someone…” I nod my head to encourage him. “And then a crowd went between us and he...he was just gone. I didn’t really think much of it. Then there was this flash of green like in…”

“‘Like in...’? You can tell me.”

“Like in Dragon Age.” He whispered out. My heart stopped. “He-he fell through a-uhh... rift. His throat was already torn when he came through…”

“He… fell through... a Dragon Age rift.”

_Me. It was my fault. I did this to him._

_**T** **here was one constant: all of it was centered around _me._**_

**_“So… no one else has been seeing video game characters?”_ **

**_“Are you kidding? I would be all over that if they were.”_ **

_All this Thedas weirdness is centered around me. And.. and Thedas is a dangerous place.  It has demons and abominations and templars. His throat being ripped out was probably a demon tearing into him. Going to meet with my brother was dangerous. Oh God._ **_I_ ** _put him in danger. If he hadn’t met with me yesterday…_

I stop the thought there.

I couldn’t stand it. I had to get out. _I killed my brother._  I ran to my bike. People were calling out my name. _How did they know my name, was Varric still here?_

 _Oh wait. My brother is dead, I don’t give a shit._ I ran faster.

The rage that had breathed new life into me had burned itself out. There was no one to blame but me, no one to get revenge on. Just me and my empty husk. There was nothing left. I didn’t bother putting on a helmet when I got to my bike, I just got on and kicked it to life. I was speeding away from everything. I couldn’t do it again, I needed to be free and on the road.

As I raced away from the tattered remains of my life, the sunny blue skies turned to foreboding clouds and the wind started to pick up. _Good. The weather is finally reflecting how shitty life is._ I drove faster. The adrenaline rush and the focus required to maintain my suicidal speeds drowned out any thoughts of my brother that attempted to take over my mind and heart.

When I hit 70 mph, the overcast weather finally fulfilled it’s promise of a downpour. I was numb inside and out. Numb to the torrential rains, numb to the cold, numb to the emotions. I don’t want to feel anymore.

As I made it out of the city and onto some country roads I realized I had no idea where I was going, just away. That thought made me feel so alone. There was nothing to anchor me anywhere anymore. I saw headlights in the distance. Not just headlights, but also the running lights of a semi-truck. The lights began to disappear behind a hill. A dark thought wormed its way past my mental numbness. _It would be easy to end it all now. You got your brother killed. Everyone you love is gone._ I wouldn’t have a chance on my motorcycle against a semi. At these speeds, death would probably be instant.   _All I need to do is ease Bertha into the left lane_.

The thought became so compelling, my body began to follow it. I was drifting to the truck’s path. The truck  crested the hill, the headlights blindingly visible again. The driver of the truck gave a honk when he saw my motorcycle in his path. He probably hoped I would get out of the way.

Suddenly, a thought that wasn’t my own made it’s way into my head. I wasn’t on my motorcycle in the rain anymore. I was on a rented rowboat with my brother. Our dad used to take us fishing all the time. In an attempt to reconnect with my brother I tried to reconstruct those long forgotten summer days. It was horrible. I forgot the sunscreen and mosquito repellent. Our picnic ended up feeding a family of raccoons and I was so excited to catch the first fish of the day, that I overturned the boat. It was horrible, so horrible, in fact, that it was the most fun either of us had since we lost our parents.

The truck’s horn was growing unbearably loud and insistent.

Another memory of my brother dominated my mind. Just his face this time. Smiling with that knowing look and giving me his signature double-thumbs-up. “ _You did that for him. You made him happy again. Now he wants to do it for you.”_ That smile was just months after his own suicide attempt. I remember thinking how much he had changed after I raced across the country to help him through his dark days. He had lost all will to live after my parent’s accident… and… I left him with my horrible aunt and uncle while I went off to college. When I came charging back into his life and put us both into counseling, he fought me, telling me it wasn’t worth the time or money, that I should go back to my life and my college. After a few months though, we began to connect in a way few people ever do. We brought each other back to the land of the living. We made a promise to each other to find what makes life worth living, and then live it to the fullest, no matter what.

“ _He doesn’t want this for you_ ,” the eerily familiar voice in my head added. Before I had any time to reply or really process the fact that a voice (a voice that wasn't my own) had been in my head, something caught my eye on the side of the road. _No it couldn’t be_ . I… I thought I saw my brother…? He looked… disappointed. That brought me back to my senses. _What was I doing?!_ I jerked back over to my lane just in time.

If I had wanted to, I could have reached out and touched the truck as it blew passed me. The wind vortex generated by the near miss almost knocked me off Bertha as it was.  When I finally righted myself on the road, and reduced my speed to a more sane level, I let out the breath I had been holding and relaxed the death grip on my handlebars. The trucker gave out several indignant honks. Probably cursing me out in his cab for being terrible driver.

I pulled over. I needed to breathe, I needed to think. _Is this what I wanted? Were the “slings and arrows” of life more unbearable than that “undiscover’d country” of death? Gawd I’m being so dramatic I’m pulling Shakespeare out of my ass._ I paced back and forth at the side of the road contemplating the merits of suicide.

I stopped.

_What am I doing?!_

_Oh nothing, Fred, just ‘contemplating the merits of suicide’!_

I felt ashamed at myself. _What would my brother think if he could see me now? Those promises I made to him didn’t end just because he was gone, right? If the situation were reversed, I knew in my heart-of-hearts that I wouldn’t want my brother to give up again._ I looked back down the road, remembering what I saw just before I pulled myself back from the brink of death. There was nothing there. _It must have just been a guilt-ridden, adrenaline-fueled hallucination...I need to slow down and think, not let grief make my decisions_.

I glanced around, hoping for some kind of sign as to what to do next. _Yeah like the universe would be nice enough to give me an actual…_ I paused in my thought. Just as I was ending my eyeroll at the universe, a sign for the _Cork and Brie: Bed and Breakfast_ came into view. “A place to contemplate life” the sign declared in a swirly text at the bottom. _Well, that’s oddly specific and rather helpful. I take back all sarcasm and eyerolls aimed at the universe. I replace it with the humblest of apologies._

The _Cork and Brie_ was only two miles away. I had nowhere else to be and a woodsy bed and breakfast seemed like a good a place as any to think through what happens next. I can either find a way to give life another shot, or, you know. Not. Making life and death decisions in a grief induced haze wasn’t right. The crisis training I took for volunteering at that suicide hotline told me that much. Emotions like grief or anger can constrict logical thinking. I had been in fight or flight mode and I almost ended it all. My… my brother would be disappointed.

  
I hopped on Bertha, this time taking the time to strap on my helmet. “One more adventure? Eh, old girl?” The motorcycle didn’t reply, but I knew she was on the same page as me. We took off to find the Cork and Brie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of the first chapters I had written for this story. It’s been in the plan from the beginning. I did have to do some revising because parts of the story have changed. I also realized something was missing from Fred’s original emotional journey here: anger (Thanks Game of Thrones!). Fred wouldn’t just be sad that her brother was gone, she’d want revenge on the bastard that did it. Hopefully it all ends up being believable. We are almost to Thedas.
> 
> Fun fact: I love red herrings, especially with an unreliable narrator. Fred only knows what Fred sees. She can only make guesses based on the information she has, which may or may not lead her to the correct assumption. *evil grin*
> 
> Side note: I do volunteer at a crisis hotline. I feel like Fred might be the kind of person that would do that too, especially how with how things were going for her brother. If it seems that little tidbit was kind of just thrown in there, it was. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted it in there until I put it there. Crisis training might be a valuable asset in the future for Fred.


	8. Good ol’ Flemy *cough* I Mean: “Phlegmy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through and cleaned up my older chapters. Edited a few inconsistencies, grammatical errors, and typos. Nothing really Earth-shattering, but they are a little cleaner now.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait. I had to take care of a friend after surgery (emptying body drains is fun! NOT). I also installed a floor. What can I say? I lead an exciting life.
> 
> I may also have been avoiding writing this chapter. It was like pulling my own teeth out with rusty pliers. I’m not a 100% in love with it (not even really 67% in love with it, tbh), but I’m ready to move on with my life. So… here it is:

The Cork and Brie was surprisingly easy to find. Only two miles away and every few hundred feet there seemed to be a sign encouraging patrons towards the establishment. 

_ Huh, I don’t remember seeing any signs or advertisements on the way here, they must have spent the whole ‘sign budget’ on these ones here.  _

_ It could also be that I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings on that suicidal race through country roads.  _

_ Yeah, that might be it. _

_ This is all ridiculous. I should be taking care of… things… back in Seattle. Deal with reality. But, here I am, going to stay in a B&B in the middle of nowhere.  _

As soon as the thought crossed my mind and I began to slow the vehicle to turn around, a new sign for the B&B popped up: “ **You need a break from reality! Take your troubles to the Cork and Brie!** ”

The way that the sign worded... ‘take your troubles’... It was like someone made that sign specifically for me. My brother’s death was caused by me. I am definitely dragging trouble around. It might be for the best if I stay away from other people for a while. I should take my troubles to the Cork and Brie, isolate myself from the general population, it might reduce the risk of people being sent to Thedas to die. “Well, if you think it’s best, sign, I can’t argue.”

Another few hundred feet, and yet  _ another _ sign replied “ **I do think it’s best** .”

_ And here I thought I just got over thinking I’m crazy. Someone must be fucking with me.  _ I looked around for the hidden cameras but didn’t find any “This is.. I don’t even know anymore, Bertha. I’m just going to go with it.”

The next sign was reassuring (*sarcasm*): “ **That’s probably for the best, dear** ”

I was feeling fairly uneasy at this point.  _ These signs are freaking me out. I should probably get out of here... _ I could see a log cabin style building in the distance and one final sign proclaiming, ominously, “ **Too late, you are already here** .  **Might as well go in.** ”

The building was more like a high class resort than a campy bed and breakfast. It is a log cabin construction with two large verandas surrounding the first two floor and several smaller balconies built around the top floor (probably for private rooms). Giant river stones lined enormous flower beds on both sides of the lodge.  The flower beds were overflowing with all types of wildflowers. It looks like a fairy tale garden where a princess might wait for her prince to come along. 

It must have cost a fortune just to move the rocks from the quarry to here. None of rock types look native to the area. The wall around the flower beds has been built up about four feet tall and has stone steps cut into the center of it. But it wasn’t j _ ust _ the flower beds that had been built up; the entire house was constructed on what appeared to be an artificial hill. Because of that artificial hill, the bed and breakfast became the highest point of the valley. 

There was no doubt that the bed and breakfast was beautiful, but it had a sort of stepford vibe to it. It was suspiciously perfect. No flower was out of place. Every view of the surrounding area had been planned and framed. The wilderness of the forest had been tamed for this house.

It was unsettling. It seemed the perfect honeypot to draw in unsuspecting travelers (not to mention the whole weirdness with the signs on the way in). I was strongly reminded of the story of Hansel and Gretel, but instead of a candy house, there were lots and lots of flowers.  _ Oh great, my last adventure is going to turn into a horror movie where the kindly old innkeeper turns out to be a mass murderer who bakes her victims into delicious pies she then sells to people at the state fair. All the while, keeping her secret ingredient to herself with a knowing smile. _

_ Huh. That tangent got away from me a bit. I’m sure whoever lives here isn’t a cannibal...right? _

_ Right, guys? _

_.... _

_ You guys aren’t being very reassuring. _

While I was busy observing the house and letting my imagination run wild, a heavy gate closed behind me, locking Bertha and I into the massive estate. _Must have an automatic gate or maybe a ghost did it. Ugh._ _Well there is no going back so I might as well try and find out who owns this joint and figure out how much it will cost me to stay here._ _Hopefully it’s not an arm and a leg._ I cringed at my own terrible joke.

I cut Bertha’s engine and took off my helmet. Apparently the proprietor had heard Bertha’s roar and came out to investigate.  

“Welcome, my dear, I’m glad you made it.”

“Was I...were you waiting for me?” I asked warily, still suspicious of kindly cannibals. I also had my body facing toward Bertha just in case I needed to run.

“Is anything ever expected?” I took a step away from the B&B and toward Bertha. “Now, now, child. There is nothing to fear from me... yet.” She added with a chuckle. “I was merely trying to convey that this establishment is well away from nearby towns.” ( _ Not really reassuring creepy lady.) _ “Through the years, many who sought me out have had difficulty in finding me.” Her eyes narrowed mischievously. 

It didn’t exactly seem like she was talking about the bed and breakfast anymore. “Yeah…” I gave a nervous chuckle “I wasn’t exactly looking for it.”

“It’s amazing what one can find when one isn’t looking.”

“Uhh… sure.” This woman was making me nervous and her voice reminded me of someone. It was deep, gravelly, and a little bit phlegmy, like she had spent a significant portion of her life chain smoking. 

The phlegmy woman was doing nothing to ease my nervousness about the strange perfection of the building. I could feel some instinct scratching at the back of my neck, telling me to run away from this place, but the pain in my heart was clawing at me to escape the reality I had left behind in Seattle, pushing me toward the in. I was being torn by two different instincts to protect myself. Turning back and heading for the city would solidify what happened in a way that seeing my brother hadn’t. There would be official documents. I would have to talk to friends and family. I would have to admit to the world, and myself that my brother had died. I wasn’t ready to do that yet. Right now I would take weird and creepy (and possibly being baked into a pie) over grim reality. 

“I’m going to be Frank here. I can tell this place is  _ way _ out of my price range, but I’m willing to work or something to help pay the way.”

“Frank, I thought your name was Fred?” She gave out a hearty chuckle at her own (admittedly lame) joke.

I laughed awkwardly along with her, but then something occurred to me “I don’t remember telling you my name.” That urge to run had come back, full force.  _ Maybe physical safety should trump emotional safety? _

“Don’t be ridiculous, girl, of course you did. How would I know it, otherwise?” Another laugh at my expense. 

_ This is getting tiring, I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell her my name. _

“You may call me Kathryn. Yes, Kathryn will do nicely. Maybe Red? No. Let’s go with Kathryn.”

It clicked, the insanity was beginning to make sense. With that understanding, the instinct telling me to run receded a little. “Sure Captain Kathy. As much fun as it would be to hang out with an old lady with a minor Kate Mulgrew obsession, I don’t like taking advantage of someone’s hospitality. So if you aren’t willing to work out some sort of trade as repayment, I think I’ll be going now.”

“Going? Don’t be ridiculous. It isn’t safe to go out in a storm like this. I would be remiss in my duty as a hostess if I were allow you to go back out in the storm to brave the mudslides and lightning with just your Bertha to protect you.”

_ I don’t remember telling her my motorcycle’s name, but that’s beside the point, at the moment. _ “Storm? What storm? The sky has cleared I even see blue…” A clap of thunder sounds as lightning strikes a tree not ten yards from where I am standing. I bolt for the shelter of the porch. 

I looked out at the rain, mouth agape and then back to the captain. “Close your mouth, child, before some toad comes along and decides to make it his new home.”

I shut my jaw and gathered my wits. “Well that doesn’t really change the fact that I can’t afford to stay here.”

“Can you afford to  _ not _ stay here?” the way she said it made me think she  _ knew _ my fears. She was talking about more than just the storm. What was with this crazy woman? How could she possibly know? Or does she constantly talk like there was some secret of yours she knew?  _ Unlikely _ .

“Don’t worry about compensation, girl.” The way she said it brooked no argument. “Tis the off-season and I have no other guests to entertain. You wouldn’t let a poor defenseless old woman like me weather this terrible storm alone, would you?” She smiled. She knew she had me with the guilt trip.” No. tonight you will stay here.”

I couldn’t argue with Captain Kathy. It’s not just the lightning that could kill me. Flash floods and mudslides would be the real danger on these woodsy backroads. 

It also wouldn’t be safe to be around other people and, as cruel as it was to say, Captain Kathy had lived a long,  full life (and might be a cannibal). Risking her life was safer than heading back into the city where anyone I crossed paths with might be sucked into a world they aren’t prepared to survive in.  _ I’ll just try and avoid any close interaction with the captain, I guess. Lesser of two evils and all that.  _

I looked back towards the road. It was hard to even see it. Bertha and I would just have to wait a day or so...so I guess--

_ Oh shit!  _ “Bertha! I need to get her cover on!” My eyes met where I had left my faithful steed and I froze. Bertha was already covered. 

“Do not worry about your Bertha. She has been taken care of.”

“What? Who…? I didn’t see anyone...”

“To have such keen eyes, and, yet, be unable to see…” She seemed to stare at something off in the distance. I tried to follow her eyes but she turned back to face me before I could see anything. “But you will.” There was a long awkward silence and just as I was about to ask Captain Kathy for clarification she said: “It might have been my man, Barnaby.”

“...Barnaby?”

“Barnaby.”

“Who the hell is Barnaby?”  _ So much for the poor old defenseless lady being alone with no one to entertain. This woman is manipulative. _

“He looks after this place. He usually takes care of the guest’s vehicles and bags.”

I waited for more of an answer, but none came. “If someone put a cover on Bertha and carried my ginormous bag into the house, he would have been noticeable.” Captain Kathy just stared at me. “He would have made  _ some _ noise. And-and it takes time to put on that cover, I know. I do it almost every day.” I glared at Captain Kathy. She glared back. “I would have seen him.”

“Yes. You would have.  _ If  _ you had been looking” With that, she walked back into the building behind her. I just stared dumbly at her back. 

_ We are just rolling with the weird, remember Fred? It’s either this or face reality.  _ As I faced the doorway I had a moment of prescience. This doorway was unique. It was the threshold into a new life, a life without my brother. Walking through it was a decision I can’t take back. I could feel it. This was my crisis point, a choice is about to be made that determines the trend of all future events. Do I follow phlegmy and possibly crazy woman into the creepy  house? Or do I return to the city and face reality? That choice would mean putting more people at risk. Is saving other people’s lives worth being possibly baked into a delicious pie? Was it worth leaving my brother behind?

The thought of my brother had me aching to go and find my Garrett. I even took a step away from the door. I wanted to get back to him as fast as Bertha could carry me. I wanted to ruffle his hair. I wanted him to laugh at my name. I wanted him to lift me into a bone crushing bear hug. I wanted his smile again.

My memories eventually twisted into more recent and gruesome ones. I saw him laying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood, throat torn out, and limbs limp at his sides. Those arms would never hug me again. 

What I wanted was something that was never going to happen. In that moment, I resigned myself to that truth.

I opened my eyes to see Kathryn standing there and staring at me like she knew. The features of her face warped from the aloof and polite joviality of an innkeeper to the sorrow and empathy of one who has known loss as cutting and as deep as my own. “Without an end there can be no peace.” She stated, simple, brutal, but true nonetheless.

The tears that had been welling in my eyes finally decided to escape. I wiped them away with my arm. She had walked in. I followed her.

 

***

 

After going through a small entryway, I found myself in a bright and airy B&B.  _ Not entirely what I was expecting. Although, expecting anything at this point in my life is more like a stab in the dark. _ Almost the entire back wall of the establishment was made of glass that looked out over the valley below.  _ Surprise, surprise there is also a private lake. _

The two floors above me had open balconies with groups of tables and chairs arranged to take advantage of the expansive view. On closer examination all of the furniture, rugs, and building materials were of the highest quality. Supple, buttery leather covered several of the chairs. Many of the fabrics looked too rich to even sit on without causing them to crinkle. There was a fireplace that dominated the center of the room. It was large enough to fit my entire bedroom and had a cylindrical build making it accessible from every side. The seating attached to it was made of marble. 

There weren’t any tacky severed animal heads or deer antlers adorning the walls. All of decorations were of the abstract, expensive variety. The kind of art where someone painted a red square slightly off-center, called it “Relationship with Mother,” and asked half a mill for it.

My eyes finally fell back onto my hostess. Something grated between the Captain and the decorations in her establishment. She seemed practical and efficient. There was also an indiscernible wildness and ferocity to the woman. She didn’t seem the type to give in to absurd extravagance. I wouldn’t imagine her garden to be pristine and neat, I would imagine it to be wild and sprawling.

“Something the matter, dear?” She asked with a smile.

“Uhhh…” I had been staring at her for a bit “No, you just… You have a beautiful home.”  _ Maybe she hired a decorator. Maybe the drapes don’t have to reflect your innermost personality. I shouldn’t be so judgemental. _

“How kind of you to say, but the credit isn’t mine to take.”

I waited for her to elaborate, but like all the other times, she wasn’t forthcoming. I shrugged my shoulders.  _ Rich people are weird _ .

“BARNABY!”

I jolted at the sudden outburst, and I wasn’t the only one. A lump that I had overlooked, sitting in one of the overpriced chairs, snorted awake.

“Which! What? Who? What am I doing?” He lept to his feet. The portly man looked rather confused. Barnaby was wearing a simple, white button down shirt and khaki pants. Although his garb was simple, it was well made, similar to the room around him. He had a kind, rotund face and graying hair. If I were to stand this man next to Captain Kathy, I would have bet all the money I had that he was the owner, not the Captain. 

“Barnaby,” Captain Kathy said again, this time snapping her fingers to get Barnaby to focus. It seemed to work, the sleepy confused look changed to one of focus.

“What do you want, Phlegmy?” I let out a breathless chuckle at Barnaby’s name for his employer.  _ At least I only thought it... _

“I told you not to call me that.” Was her curt reply as she sent a glare my way. I stopped giggling. “We have a guest, show her to her room.”

“Alright, alright. No need to roar at poor old Barnaby.”

Captain Kathy exits stage left ( _To do what, you ask? Probably to prepare the oven_ ) and I’m left to follow Barnaby up the stairs (he had already left, by the way, he didn’t even check to see if I was following). 

I’m not going to put this lightly. The walk to my room was very awkward. To diffuse the awkward tension, I attempted to start up a conversation “So… Barnaby.” 

He grunted in reply.

“How long have you been working for Kathryn?”

“Which! Who? Oh, yeah.  _ Her.  _ I’ve never worked for her.”

_ What? I don’t even… What is that supposed to mean? And why does he keep asking ‘which’? What a strange question for a strange little man.  _ I decided that the previous awkwardness was preferable. 

The silence did give me a chance to realize something though. Barnaby was asleep when I came inside. If he had grabbed my bags and covered Bertha, would he really have time to fall asleep so quickly? It seemed unlikely. As Captain Kathy and Barnaby seemed to be the only two people here, how did my motorcycle get covered and how did my bags get moved to my room, a room in which I hadn’t even agreed to stay in at the time of aforementioned baggage removal? I was about to ask him that very thing when a sudden thought occurred to me. 

Narcolepsy. 

What if Barnaby suffered from Narcolepsy? Maybe he removed the bag and covered the bike while I was distracted by the weirdness that is my hostess. Then, he fell asleep due to a narcoleptic disorder on the way back to the front door. Was it rude to ask if someone had narcolepsy? Would he be embarrassed if I brought it up? When we reached my room, I came to the decision not to ask. I wasn’t sure if it was rude or not and if he has narcolepsy, I’ll probably find out sooner or later. No need to bring unwanted attention to it. If he didn’t show signs of the sleep disorder, I’d be sure to ask about the case of the mysterious bag removal/Bertha coverage later. Maybe compliment him on his speed and efficacy or something. But I’m done thinking about it for now. I’m exhausted.

As soon as I step inside, Barnaby slams the door behind me. I panick and open the door again.  _ I don’t want to be locked inside my room, especially if these people are cannibals. _ To my great relief the door easily swings open and I see Barnaby trundling towards the stairs. As my heart begins to slow I turn back to my room. 

The windows face out the front of the house. I can see Bertha and the road I came in on below me. I take a moment to indulge in the thought that I might be able to jump on my motorcycle and go see my brother. I even feel a ghost of the excitement I felt when I approached the restaurant to meet him just yesterday.  _ Yesterday? It feels like years ago. _ Pushing thoughts of my brother back into their mental box, I shut the windows. _ I don’t want to look at Bertha anymore:  I don’t need a reminder of what I’ve lost _ .

The room is dark without the light coming in through the window. I should take a shower; I spent most of the day on the road and must be covered in dirt. The effort of turning the knobs just doesn’t seem like something I’m able to muster at the moment. I don’t bother turning on the lights or even removing my shoes. I grab a pillow and roll into the fetal position in the middle of the bed. I can feel the weight of the mental box with Garrett in it pressing against my mind. I know if I open it now, I won’t leave this bed for at least a week. I  _ could _ allow myself a peek into it, though. Right? Maybe just to say goodbye and then lock it away forever?

As soon as I open it, I know I made a mistake. 

I spend the next few hours in tears, but eventually I exhaust myself into a shallow and fitful sleep.

 

***

 

When I woke up, I could feel that my face was puffy and swollen from crying. It also felt like I had hangover, my head was pounding and I felt sore everywhere.  _ It couldn’t be not eating or drinking for the past 24 hours, could it Freddy? Or perhaps the adrenaline fueled suicide attempt?  _

_ Ugh I need to hold back on the sarcasm when I feel this terrible.  _

I managed to stumble toward the bathroom and fiddle with the knobs. I planned to spend the next hour luxuriating in the bath and tuning out the rest of the world. Twenty minutes into that plan, something interrupts me. 

_ No. Correction:  _ something  _ delicious _ interrupts me. The smell of breakfast wafted into my room and, suddenly, I was ravenous. 

For a moment I felt guilty.  _ Your brother’s dead and all you can think of is bubble baths and food. What the fuck is wrong with you? _ I took a steadying breath and lock those feelings into the Garret box and shove them deep down into a rarely visited corner of my mind.

The allure of food becomes too much. I think I almost tipped over the claw footed tub in my attempt to exit the tub and grab a robe (great big fluffy one, too! But I’m too focused on food to really notice). 

In my frenzied, primal haze to find sustenance I managed to notice Barnaby wandering the halls. Dude’s eyes are glazed as he walks toward me. He didn't see me standing there. I tried snapping my fingers in his face like the captain did, but even that didn't  phase him.  _ Must have been magic… or some really good pot.  _ I shrugged my shoulders  _ I don’t have time to think about the weirdness that goes on here I have food to find. _

I followed my nose to deliciousness and found myself in a massive dining hall. This place could seat thirty, easily. It seemed like there was enough food to feed thirty, too, but I was the only one in the room. I piled my plate with eggs, pancakes, fruit, fried potatoes, and anything else I could find that didn’t have meat. ( _ I’m technically a vegetarian, even though I work for a vegan ice cream place. I really think of myself as a vegetarian-perpetually-going-vegan. I feel horrible when I do it, but I have a weakness for dairy and eggs. Being raised in the midwest, those are my go-to comfort foods…and I kinda need some comfort today. _ )

I ate until I made myself sick.  _ Good thing I’m just in a robe, I don’t think my pants could stand all this food without losing a button. _

Whoever cooked this food deserves a thank you. Maybe a hug. I wasn't a complete heathen, so I used a napkin to clean my face before I head out in search of my hostess, or the cook, or, hell, I’d even take Barnaby.

After a solid hour searching the place (yes, it’s that big) I finally decide to relent. Clearly, I was alone. No Captain and no Barnaby anywhere. The lack of a Captain Kathy made me nervous, though. First she did everything in her power to get me to stay here, but now I don’t even get a ‘good morning’ from her. What happened to all that guilt she poured on me about leaving a poor old lady alone in a dark house during a storm?

_ Hmmm… maybe she really does intend to fatten me up and then turn me into Frey Pie, no-no, FRED Pie (*uncontrollable giggles*).  _ As I passed the great wall of windows for probably the seventh time this morning, I noticed the storm has cleared completely. There was even blue sky and sunshine peeking out through the clouds. I decided it might be safe enough to go outside for a run. 

Even though I hate running in the wilderness, it’s probably best if I stay active.  _ If I keep myself exercised maybe Captain Kathy will prolong the fattening period. It might give me enough time to plan my escape from the crazy lodge or, you know, eat more delicious food. Seriously, a girl could get used to this. Priorities Fred! First find out if your host is a cannibal and THEN ask for seconds (depending on the answer, of course). _

I ran back to my room and dressed warmly. I put on thermal leggings and a long sleeve thermal shirt underneath sweatpants and my alliance World of Warcraft hoodie. I threw on my bright pink knitted hat ( _just in case there are hunters in the woods. Don't want to get shot._ )

When I went to pick up my phone I noticed I have about twenty missed calls, most of them are from Geraldine and a few are from unknown numbers. I scrolled to the bottom and freeze. I had an unread message from my brother. I immediately cleared the notifications. If I can't even stand to see the notification, there is no way I’ll be able to look at that message. 

I added my the thoughts and feelings about the unread message to the Garrett box. The mental box was pulling against its mental restraints.

I added another layer of chains to it. 

Before I could spare another thought on that mental box, I put my earbuds in and turned the volume up on my phone as loud as I could stand it. 

When I got outside, I felt better with the cool crisp air to further distract me. The ground was still moist from the heavy rains, but nothing I couldn’t handle.   _ I’ll definitely have to tune into the news or find some report on the status of nearby roads before I leave, though. Don’t need to get carried away by a mudslide. What an undignified way to go. _ It took about thirty minutes before the corner of my mind with the box finally went completely silent. After that I was able to appreciate the beauty around me, even if nature really wasn’t my thing. The trail I had found was well cared for and most of the trees that could drop spiders or hide bears were well away from where I was running. 

After another thirty minutes I came to the end of the trail. In front of me was an open field with seating areas for people to have a picnic or whatever it is people do in nature. I turned back to look up at the bed and breakfast. It was quite a bit higher in elevation than I thought it was.  _ Getting to the picnic area was super easy; going back is going to be a pain in the ass. Maybe there will be more delicious food waiting for me. Hell, I’d even have breakfast leftovers. _

Before I head up though, I think I might take a break. Not eating anything yesterday is really taking it’s toll on my energy levels. I turn back to face the clearing and am met with a surprise. Standing there, in the middle of the field, is Captain Kathy.

_ Did she… did she spend the whole night out here? She… doesn’t seem to have any supplies... _

I lifted my hand in greeting, but she didn’t return it. As I lowered my hand, she started to approach me with the feral prowl of a predator on the hunt. It was the kind of walk that screamed “danger” and my instincts told me to bolt, but I couldn’t move. My feet were stuck to the ground. I tried pulling harder. My reward for my struggle was falling on my ass, feet still stuck in the same spot.

Kathryn let out a hearty guffaw and I tore my eyes away from the feet-stuck-to-ground predicament to see that Kathryn had a wardrobe change while I wasn’t looking.

“Oh, shit” was all I could come up with.

“This was  _ quite _ the enjoyable diversion. I hope to do it again sometime in the future” She laughed again.

Standing before me was full-on Flemythal, hair horns, feather pauldrons, tight purple leather, and everything. 

The only thing I could think to ask was “Why are you doing this?”

“A friend of your’s asked me to.”

“What? Who? I don’t think anyone I know would ask you to do this…I don’t even really have friends who know who you are.”

“Haha, is that so? Well maybe that is about to change.”

Before I could do or say anything else Flemythal made a gesture like she was swatting a fly and I went flying backwards. Closing my eyes, I braced for impact, but the impact never came. Slowly, I opened my left eye and then my right. Flemythal was staring at me as I hurtled farther and farther away, but instead seeing her surrounded by a forest, she was surrounded by a green misty tear in reality.  _ No. She was still standing in that forest. I had flown through the tear in reality. _ As I fell farther and farther backwards, the tear repaired itself. I no longer had Flemythal’s face to anchor me.

I was adrift in the fade.  

Yet, all I could think while falling through the green abyss was how stupid I was not to see it all sooner.  _ I can’t believe the crazy cat lady disguise from Origins worked on me. I thought I was smarter than that.  _ The  _ Cork and Brie _ sounds an awful lot like Korcari now that I think about it… ( _ Korc-ar-rie/Cork and Brie, ugh whoever thought of that name is so lame. I hope it wasn’t Flemythal. I kind of look up to her, you know? I wanted to think she was cooler than that) _ . Barnaby had screaming out “witch” when he woke up, not “which”. He was trying to warn me,  _ damn those homophones _ . 

The ‘roaring’.... the phlegm... she even used a quote from Dragon Age 2...

I’m facepalming, _super_ hard, __ right now.

_ By the way, does this falling-through-the-abyss thing end? Am I doomed to fall eternally through shapeless green mist? How can I keep falling when there doesn’t seem to be an up or down? Will I have a run in with a demon and end up back on Earth with my throat slashed? Will I ever find out what happened to Brad? Will people from Thedas stop looking mysteriously off into the distance at things I can’t see? Will I think up questions that don’t start with ‘will’? Will I ever run out of questions? Probably not! Find out in the next episode of [Insert Witt-- _

I blacked out.


	9. I Walk a Lonely Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAH! And you guys thought I got Fred to Thedas. *weeps uncontrollably*
> 
> Small chapter to try out some different styles and perspectives. Fred’s still knocked out, so it’s the perfect time to experiment! If you guys like it, I might do more chapters like this when/if the story calls for it.
> 
> This is somewhat anachronistic, but ya’ll have been sticking with me so far (Thanks for that, btw, you guys are awesome, in all meanings of the word, I both fear and love you <3<3)… so… here it is! 
> 
> *crosses fingers*

‘The Shadow of Haven’ they are calling it. She lurks here and there, they say.  Beautiful and terrible. She waits in corners, ready to pounce on misbehaving children. She steals all the gold from snotty shems and gives it to the elves. She also hides under the beds of naughty mages, waiting to drag them to the void.

What a load of dragonshit.

These people have too much time on there hands and they couldn’t even make up a good story. The best taverns stories always had a twist or some action, maybe an explosion or two. It was like these shems were trying to make a ghost story as boring as possible. All this _supposed_ ghost does is stand there. Although, one time she did laugh at a templar, but that’s not really exciting or interesting, just mildly amusing. If you are going to tell tall tales, you should at least tell them right. Varric Tethras. Now there’s a story teller you can respect, he was once telling this story at the hanged man where two templars walked in and the champion--

“Willem!” a voice called out and he turned to see who was trying to get his attention now. He was rather irritated someone had interrupted his mental rant, he was on a roll too. Mental rants were the best way to get through scrubbing tables and floors.

The irritation drained away, though, when he saw it was his sister, Ghella.

“What are you doing in the tavern? Aren’t you supposed to be fetching things for the apothecary? Does Adan know you are here?” Willem asked. He worked hard to find his sister a job away from handsy drunks. Ghella was only 14 and still had the hopefulness and naivety of youth. Willem wanted to protect her from the crushing reality of being an elf in a world made by humans for as long as he could. The apothecary is a bit curmudgeon-y, but he doesn’t seem the type to take advantage of young elves. (Too worried about making bigger explosions out of plant goo.)

“Have you heard? Have you heard?” Ghella said as she bounced up and down. Apparently she was just going to ignore the question about her work. “Some of the other elves saw her!” She bounced over to the table Willem had just cleaned and sat on it. He glared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. “The ghost! You heard about the ghost right?!” Before Willem could answer, she barreled on through her story. “She had white foam coming out of her mouth and was carrying a white stick that made some sort of weird grinding noise! Bevin and the others were running around playing ‘Lock the Gods Away’ and then they saw her. Bevin was Fen’harel at the time, but he sort of pushed his way to the front when everyone stopped in front of him to get a better look. He said he demanded to know who she was and what she was doing, but she didn’t answer so they had a sword fight. Bevin SWEARS she nearly cursed the lot of them before they escaped!” Ghella almost toppled off the chair in an attempt to mime a sword fight.

“Well Bevin is full of sh-- crap.” Ghella giggled at the near-swear. “Besides, if some spirit from the fade had tried to curse him, he would be cursed. He just likes being the center of attention. Half of what he says has been dreamed up in that idiotic head of his. ‘She was foaming at the mouth’” Willem mimicked in a high-pitched and unflattering voice.  “Unbelievable. And then he said he had a _sword_ sword fight with a _ghost_? Where did he get the sword? If it’s a ghost, how could he hit it? I can’t believe you believed him, I thought you were raised better than that.” Willem added with a shake of his head.

“Okay. So the part about Bevin fighting it was probably a fib, but don’t you believe all that stuff about the Shadow of Haven? I think it would be exciting to meet a spirit! I could ask them all sorts of questions and and--”

“If you meet something out of the fade, you run the other way, you hear me Ghella? You come find me as soon as you can. You don’t need to be messing with something you don’t understand or something that could hurt you.”

Willem held her gaze until she nodded. She looked rather subdued.

Whatever. This is for her safety.

“Now, you get back to Adan and see if he needs anything.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” she whined.

“Yes, get back to it. And, if you're so bored, try and pay attention to what he’s doing. It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn something from an apothecary.” Willem’s hope was that Adan would take a liking to Ghella as a student and maybe teach her to read. If she proved herself useful, Adan might even take her on as an apprentice. She was definitely smart enough, smarter than me, (in some ways) and she had the compassion of a healer.

 _Yeah, keep dreaming Willem. The shem will probably never notice_ _her. Too busy with that goo and all._

It was several minutes after his sister had left that Willem noticed he wasn’t alone. Something prickled along the back of his neck and he turned around to see what was there. It was a shem. Of course it was a shem. There are signs outside that state the tavern is closed until dinner, but some shem who thinks she’s bigger than her britches decides it’s time to eat. And who will Flissa blame for this? The idiot shem? Of course not. This will, somehow, be my fault.

“Oi! We're closed for at least another two hours.” He tried to be polite, but he was getting tired of uppity humans.

Her back was to him and she didn’t turn to look at him, she just kept on eating. Willem threw his towel on the table and came around to the front of the shem. To his surprise, there was no food, but she was clearly stuffing her face with abandon. “Uhhh… hello. Crazy shem? Yeah, you. The one eating the air. It’s time to leave now.”

She didn’t even look at him. Willem was used to being ignored because of the shape of his ears, but this is ridiculous. He began to wave his hand wildly in front of the shem and to his amazement his fingers passed through her face (not that he was intentionally trying to hit the irritating woman, of course). Willem was shocked. Here she was. The mysterious ‘Shadow of Haven’ right here, in the tavern. Guess he might have to apologize to Ghella...

He stood there and stared at her for a bit

“‘Beautiful and terrible’, andraste’s ass. You look just like any other shem who comes in here to stuff their face, completely oblivious to anything around you. I don’t see what the big deal is. If you are going to be a ghost and interrupt my day, at least be interesting.” Willem rolled his eyes and got back to scrubbing tables. He had to finish before the evening rush for dinner and he had a new rant to work on.

 

*** _Somewhere near the outskirts of Haven***_

 

He had spent the last few weeks tracking his orb. The monster he had given it too was preparing  to open it, he could feel it.  He has to be there when the monster fails.

It should never have happened this way, but he was out of options. The power locked in the orb was needed and he didn't have the energy to unlock it. His pride was still wounded that his own orb had spurned him when he needed it most; he had lost so much strength…If the Evanuris could see him now...

He was lost in a sea of his own failings when something bright flew past him. And he heard something strange. A sound like he had never heard before, which was quite exemplary in itself. The sound it was… music?

> _I walk a lonely road_  
>  _The only one that I have ever known_ _  
> _ _Don't know where it goes_ _  
> _ But it's home to me and I walk alone
> 
> _I walk this empty Stre--_

As the figure moved farther away the music faded out of his hearing “Wait!” He called out to it. _It must be a spirit of some sort. Hopefully, it is not stuck on this side of the veil; not many spirits outside of the fade are able to remain wholly themselves…_

He chased after it. It moved fast, but he was gaining on it. He noticed that the spirit had taken on the form of a woman, a woman who was wearing the most absurd clothes made with the most unnatural colors. The mystery of it all pushed him to move faster.

He attempted to call out to her with his voice and magic. She ignored his voice and his magic seemed to pass right through her, as if she wasn’t there.

The spirit momentarily disappeared between some trees. When he made it through the the tree line he saw the spirit had stopped at the crest of a hill. And… seemed to be crying. He approached her warily.

He could hear the music again

> _I'm walking down the line_  
>  _That divides me somewhere in my mind_  
>  _On the border line_  
>  _Of the edge and where I walk alone_  
>    
>  _Read between the lines_  
>  _Of what's fucked up and everything's alright_  
>  _Check my vital signs_  
>  _To know I'm still alive and I walk alone_  
>    
>  _I walk alone_  
>  _I walk alone_  
>  _I walk alone_ _  
> _ I walk a…
> 
> _My shadow's the only one that walks beside me_  
>  _My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating_ _  
> _ _Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me_ _  
> _ 'Til then I walk alone

He rounded to see spirit’s face. Tears welled in her eyes. What was disturbing, though, was that when he looked at her face, he saw his own emotions mirrored back. Guilt. Remorse. Abject loneliness. Anger. He wondered to himself what kind of spirit this could be. she did not match any spirit he had seen before, and the fact that she was also unresponsive to his hails, both magical and verbal, was...odd. Was this something new? Something birthed in this broken world he himself had torn asunder? Or were his own emotions merely overshadowing the spirit’s true nature? It was hard to say.

The spirit closed her eyes as the song came to an end. The words had burned themselves into his memory as the spirit faded away.

_A mystery for another time then._

Still he couldn’t help but feel disappointed he might never find out what fade spirit haunted these woods, or what culture may have imagined such music. He had never heard its like in all his considerable time spent exploring the fade. When he reclaimed his orb and all of his planning came to fruition, such a unique spirit might be lost forever and the music along with it. He made a note to come back and explore the fade here later; there was time before he enacted the next step.

He dragged his attention to the view over the hill. It seemed that the spirit had not led him astray. In front of him stands Haven and, farther back in the mountains, the temple where the futile negotiations between mages and templars were taking place.

His orb was at the heart of it. He could feel it calling to him.

To infiltrate, he would have to don a new identity... or... perhaps an old one, made new again. He would don the guise of a curious mage seeking knowledge and peace, an end to conflict. He would be exceedingly average; unremarkable, by even the most excessive scrutiny. A mage scholar hailing from nowhere important, merely here to observe. Unobtrusive and invisible.

He would be Solas again.

Yes. The Solas façade would suffice. He made his way down the hill. The walk would take another day or so, but it made no matter. Corypheus would be slain in his own lust for power and Solas will walk away with the orb of Fen'Harel.

 

_***At approximately the same time, in the chantry at Haven, one day before the first formal meeting between templar and mage representatives.***_

 

Two figures wait in a room in the back of the building. Both seem rather agitated and a steely silence fills the room.

One of the figures, a red haired woman with a purple hood, sits at the table. In front of her are piles of reports, several have been pulled out for closer inspection. She stares at them, her fingers steepled in front of her as if she is deep in thought. Her posture suggests she is completely oblivious to the other occupant of the room, which is a great feat considering the clamor he makes as he walks.

The other figure has a stiffness about him that one usually gains in the military. He paces the room anxiously with his left hand firmly gripping the pommel of his sword. The man is clearly impatient about something. On one pass, he notices the stillness of his companion. He opens his mouth, probably to ask how she could remain so still at a time like this, but then seems to reconsider. He shakes his head and resumes pacing.

The door bursts open and the seemingly calm redhead leaps to her feet, ready for action. Similarly, the man turns to face the doorway with his sword partially drawn. Both figures relax when they recognize the intruder as the one they had been waiting for.

“Has there been another sighting?” The intruder, a black haired and fierce looking woman, asks.

“Yes. This time, we both saw her.” The hooded redhead states. The black haired warrior turns to face the man, he nods in agreement with the redhead.

“So she is no longer just a rumor.” The intruder replies.

“The apparition has been spotted all over Haven. One of my agents even overheard it in one of the holding cells.”

“Is it a demon?”

“The reports are unclear. It hasn’t harmed anyone but--”

“That doesn’t mean that it is not a demon.” The man interjects, agitated that the two woman are calmly discussing a situation that, in his mind, calls for clear and decisive action. “It appears out of thin air but is unlike any fade step or other such magic that I have ever seen. It must be from the fade and is therefore dangerous and a threat to this conclave. We should let it be known that templars need to be alerted the moment the creature appears. Further, we should have templars patrol through all parts of the camp, it is in the best interest for all that--”

“‘The best interest for all’?  You cannot seriously believe that sending a group of templars through the mage encampment would be ‘for the best’. We have worked so hard to get the mages and templars to simply agree to these talks. Sending a group of armed templars into the mage encampment without their consent would ignite a civil war.

“You also forget, Commander, that I have seen my fair share of strange magics. I have seen spirits of the kindest benevolence,” the commander opens his mouth to interject, but the hooded woman stops it with a glare, “and  monsters with the capacity for the cruelest of evils.” She added. “The apparition we saw was neither of these. The reports all seem to agree that the spirit in question is more human in character than anything.”

“You think the spirit is a person?” The black haired warrior inquires.

“You cannot think to suggest--” The Commander starts.

The redhead ignores the commander’s interruption and simply talks over him. “What we _know_ is that she has been spotted all over Haven and the surrounding encampments. There have been no reports of aggressive behavior and in many of the sightings she seems to ignore her surroundings completely, like she cannot see the people before her. In the times she has interacted with the people she has been reported to smile at the antics of children, laugh at the bickering of workman, and--”

“It knew our names. How could it know our names if it didn’t get into our minds?” The Commander asks before the woman could finish. “Only demons do that.” He added.

“The Commander has a good point, Leliana. For now, the Divine must be informed of what is happening and it might be for the best if we talk with each group and have them set their own patrols to handle the apparition. Maybe we can get each side to agree to certain protocols to enact if the spirit appears. There are experts in both sides that should be able to deal with it, whatever it is. We should also offer our own soldiers to aide _both sides_  in their efforts to track the spirit.”

“A prudent approach, but I still think the templars are best suited to banish a spirit back to the fade. Another thing to consider is that a significant portion of our forces consists of ex-templars, do you think the mages will be able to see us as a truly neutral force?"

"We will make the offer. If the mages  _or templars_ refuse the help that is their choice and our forces will continue to keep the peace in neutral areas."

"That brings us to another problem. If both sides agree to take some of our soldiers, it might stretch our forces too thin. We still need most of our forces to secure the Divine and those neutral areas. We cannot simply--”

The Commander is interrupted by a booming in the distance. The three figures race to the front of the chantry and are met with the sight of a mushroom cloud tinged with green.

“What is--” The black haired woman begins but is thrown back by a massive shock wave before she can finish her question.

Leliana was the first on her feet. The commander and the warrior were slow to follow due to the impressive armor they both carried. It took a several minutes for the dust and ash to clear enough to see what had happened.  The Temple of Sacred Ashes is gone and above the smoldering remains loomed a great green tear in the sky which began to rain emerald balls of fire.

"Dear Maker... What could have--" the black haired warrior begins

"Not what. Who. I will start organizing scouts to find out what happened. Divine Justinia was there and the bulk of both mage and templar factions. We are what remains of any sort of leadership. We must act swiftly if we are to control what happens next." The redhead states.

"Divine Justinia...?" The warrior questions softly.

"Is dead. Cassandra, we must organize before the people panic. I need to find what remains of my scouts." The cold-hearted logic of Leliana jars Cassandra out of her daze.

"You are right. People will panic, we need to keep the them organized if we plan on treating the wounded."

"Cullen--"

"We will need to establish multiple points of defense. Your scouts will be protected and have several fall-back positions. Whatever comes, we will be ready."

Cullen found the first person that was in a uniform and started barking orders. 

"Whoever did this will pay." Leliana adds before she stalks away.

"On that, we can all agree." Cassandra replies before she heads to the healing tents.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Ghella and Willem are city elves. I imagine the name Ghella to be some bastardized city elf version of the elvish name/word Ghilani which means “To guide”. Willem is just Willem. It's more of a human name, I know, but I imagine in the sort of blended culture you get in the alienage, some human names pop up on elven kids. 
> 
> The names sort of reflect where I want them to go as characters. If you noticed: Willem is a bit of an ass and very grounded and skeptical. Ghella has a little more whimsy to her.
> 
> I like these two characters so you'll probably see them again! Also, the "Lock the Gods Away" is a strictly city elf invention (well, really, my invention of a city elf game of tag where the person who is 'it' (AKA Fen'Harel) attempts to catch everyone else to 'lock the gods away'). I don't think most of the Dalish and their elfy-elfness would appreciate children pretending to be a heretic god locking away beloved gods. The city elves are farther removed from their own religion since most cities would probably try to wash away their culture and indoctrinate them into the chantry. To the kids playing a game of tag, they are just names in a story, not gods.
> 
> Do you guys like Willem and Ghella? Do you want more of them? Did I do Solas justice? (I'm so-so on what I have here, but it's hard to guess at motivations when you only know half the plan...*shrug*) Do you like it when I mix up the perspectives or shift into third person? Let me know!


	10. That's What You Get for Waking up in Haven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! *Finally* in Haven!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of dialogue from the game in this chapter, but, worry not, Fred will derail that in due time.
> 
> RE: Relationships (Feel free to skip if you just want to get to the story)
> 
> To get a little personal here, I’m asexual aromantic, and I know that really shouldn't stop me from writing romance, but that age old adage of “write what you know” has me nervous about writing romantic relationships in a believable way *panics and attempts to run away but is grabbed by [IWTH] plot muse and is slammed unceremoniously back in chair* . I occasionally enjoy a well written love story as long as there are other interesting things going on to distract me, but I have never written anything that has to do with romance or similar types of relationships. Ever. I haven’t done it because that kind of stuff has never been on my personal radar and I don't want to put romance in the story if it's going to come out unconvincing or wooden (no pun intended. Okay, pun slightly intended).
> 
> So what does that mean for Fred? “I’m not sure yet”, is the short answer. The long answer is that I have the bones of the plot, I know where I want this story to go. The major plot points are all (mostly) worked out, but I’m not sure about the interpersonal stuff yet. I’m kinda just aiming for the plot points and making up the other stuff as I go. (Sorry to ruin the facade of a great writing wizard, but I'm just some lady, behind a curtain, banging my head on a desk.)
> 
> This is where you guys come in: feel free to let me know if you feel some kind of “special connection” between Fred and one of the other characters (male or female). Or maybe you just want to see her happily settled at the end of the story or something, let me know. Maybe, for you guys, if you're especially convincing, I’ll try my hand at a romance. Or maybe Fred is ace, too. Maybe I'll explore that.
> 
> If you feel particularly passionate about Fred and another character being together (male or female) AND you have some writing chops and experience writing that stuff, feel free to message/e-mail me. Maybe we can co-author something farther along in the story. Or maybe you can just give me some help or insight on that mushy stuff.
> 
> Thank you for your time!
> 
> *wipes brow as plot muse nods sagely in appreciation* 
> 
> Whew. Now that that’s over--on with the story!

Waking was a painful and tedious process. My head was throbbing like a mofo, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. My body felt as if it had been through a blender and then shoved through a straw (not just any straw, but one of those crazy straws with a bunch of twists and bends in it) and now my bones are readjusting to their full size and my organs were attempting to put themselves in the correct position again.

Overall I give the experience: negative three stars; would not recommend.

I don’t know what is around me, I can’t even tell if I’m still floating through the fade or if I am laying in a ditch somewhere. I think I blacked out a few times, but it’s hard to tell.

All of the bodily pains are dwarfed by the pain encompassing my hand, oh _God_ , did my hand hurt. The pain was beyond words I almost wished I could just rip the damn thing off.

I think I may have tried to rip it off, but something stops me and the pain somewhat lessens. As a portion of the pain is leeched away, I am able to think more clearly. I go from barely staving off unconsciousness to having the clarity of thought to truly appreciate the pain anew. _When I find out who did that, I’ll be sure to find them to thank them with a punch in the face._ I attempt to open my eyes but all I can make out is a painfully bright blur. The added pain to my eyes is too much and I squeeze them shut again and curl into a ball. It is then that I realize I am not on solid ground, but on something narrow and moving. Instead of attempting to open my eyes again I strain to focus my hearing on what is happening around me. It’s confusing and almost unbearable to try and sort through the chaos.

My brain latches on to the most authoritative voice in the cacophony.

“...to the building down that way. We need what supplies we can get. Take the wounded to the tents near Adan. Anyone not seriously injured must help carry…”

Suddenly the voice stopped throwing out orders. The thing that I was laying on came to a stop. _A stretcher, I must be on a stretcher_.

It’s ridiculous how happy it makes me to figure out the word for the thing that is carrying me. I think I might have laughed, but it’s hard to tell through the pain. Something bad must have happened...wha--? where? There was a creepy house?...Bertha…? My brother....? Somehow a dragon was involved? I lost my train of thought. It was all slipping out of my mind like sand through a sieve. Trying to put the pieces together of what happened is a herculean effort that my mind is not up to at the moment.

I resign myself to just listening to the turmoil around me, but the audible chaos that had surrounded me before was no longer there. While I had been lost in my own thoughts I didn’t notice how the area around me had gone quiet. Or maybe I had been moved again?

“Where did you find them?”

_No. I’m still in the same place. That voice is still here. Or maybe we left together?_

Someone must have replied, but I could only focus on that one voice.

“Near where most-holy…?” The voice’s tone changed and now held a ferocity and sharpness that wasn’t there before. “Take them to the dungeon at the base of the chantry. We will deal with them later, when we have dealt with wounded and secured Haven. _If_ they live long enough, that is.” There was a hint of satisfaction in the voice at that last sentence.  _Did the voice want someone to die?_

I think another voice countered the commanding voice. It sounded more reasonable, but it was hard to tell. As the new voice argued with the first one as a new wave of pain washed over me.  Whatever had soothed my pain earlier was fading. Agony returned with renewed gusto. This time I was sure I blacked out.

 

***

 

I awoke feeling… incredibly uncomfortable, to put it lightly. The pain from earlier is still there, but now it feels like my body has adjusted (somewhat) to what has happened to it. Earlier, I would have said the pain was over 9000 (heh) on a scale of 1 to 10, but now it’s... manageable. I might even be able to move.

_Moving. Ugh. The thought is exhausting._

_My hand is still in excruciating pain._   _I think it’s on fire. Why hasn’t anyone put it out yet?_ I’m determined to find out what has happened to my hand and I brave opening my eyes.

“Arrghh!” I exclaim. The light is too bright. I slam my eyes shut. After taking a moment to let the pain recede, but brace myself for the visual overstimulation. I need to know what has happened to me. I open my eyes, just a crack. What I can make out is blurry, but I know I am not alone.

“Ahhh… you are awake. Good. You must be quite resilient to wake up so soon. The other prisoner has yet to become even semi-conscious.”

 _Other prisoner? Varric is a prisoner of the Divine, is this person talking about Varric? Varric tells good stories. He should tell me one now to take my mind off the pain. If he’s unconscious he can’t tell a story, though. When did torchlight get so bright?_ Reeling from the pain the torch causes I try to find something to look at that isn’t so painful. _Did I mention everything is blurry?_

_It’s so hard to keep my thoughts in order. Like ducks… I need to get my duck-thoughts in a row. C’mon duckies, get in a line... I like ducks. Haha. Quack._

“Resilient, but not yet cogent, it would seem.”

_Oh, did I say that out loud?_

“Yes. And it would seem your duck imitation requires further refinement.”

_Retort… retort… I need a witty retort to talk to this uppity blob-person._

“Blob-person?” The blob shakes his head. “It makes no matter and I fear we may be straying from the topic at hand. Tell me: what--”

The blob-person was interrupted by another blob-person slamming open a door.

 _What a rude blob-person. You should treat your doors with kindness_ . _They are just there, doing their door-job. No need to be mean._

“Solas, you are ne-- blob-person? Door-job?” I think the new blob turns to face me, but I’m not entirely sure. “One of the prisoners is awake and _talking_?” This blob person sounds angry and turns that anger on the first blob. “We should have been told at once. What has she been saying, apostate? Why did you not inform us?” I imagine the second blob might be narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the first blob. Additionally, I think the first blob doesn’t seem too happy about all the questions and accusations being thrown at him by the second blob.

“Seeker, my deepest apologies for not informing you sooner. The prisoner has just awoken. So far she has revealed a rudimentary ability to mimic the sound of animals and an inability to form rational sentences. Currently she refers to those around her as ‘blob-people’. It would seem that she has not yet recovered from her experience in the Fade.”

 _That first blob-person is a smartass with a side of sneer._ Fred loses herself in laughter at her own joke. _Ugh it hurts to laugh… and talk. I think I’ll go back to sleep now._

Before I can fall asleep, though, the angry blob charges toward me.“Although your words are strange, you seem to know what is being said around you. How dare you laugh at a time like this,” She grabs my shirt collar and lifts me off the ground. “All those at the conclave are dead! Tell me what you remember. What did you do to the Divine?!”

I think back… I remember the Cork and Brie but... not the conclave. “There was this old lady. I fell through… a rip in reality? I was falling… There was more… I know there was more, but I-I can’t remember…Maybe there was a glow-y woman, too?”

She roughly shakes me again “Who was the woman? Was it the Divine? TELL ME!” Being shaken around and trying to piece together my memories is too much for me. I go limp in her hands hovering near unconsciousness.

My collapse seems to seep the anger out of the blob. She lets me drop to the floor “Her words… Our scouts reported seeing a woman in the rift when those two fell out…” She seems momentarily at a loss for words, but regains her composure.

“I am sorry, Solas. For my accusations earlier. You have been nothing but helpful. It is just that with the Divine’s death and the conclave destroyed…” she trails off.

“I understand Seeker. You should know that nothing more can be done for your prisoners. I have done what I can, but the rest is up to them.”

The Cassandra blob nods her head “Thank you Solas. If you are feeling up to it... Varric," she seems to have trouble getting the word out _(Why would that be? Varric is great and has such nice stories)_ , "could use your help at one of the rifts near Haven.”

“I will go at once. It will be easier to test my theory if the area isn’t overflowing with enemies.”

 _If Varric is already at one of the rifts, who is the other prisoner?_ The door shuts and I lose my train of thought to unconsciousness.

 

***

 

The next time I wake up it is rather abrupt. “What do you mean you _can’t?!_ ”

_Jesus. That yelling isn’t helping my headache any. They need to shut up so I can get some sleep._

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.” This voice sounds confused and frightened.

 _Ugh. Too awake now._ I open my eyes to see what is happening. _My eyes still seem really sensitive to the light. Wait, when were my eyes sensitive to the light?_ I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts. What I see before me is a fairly familiar scene. Well… a _blurry_ familiar scene. I see Cassandra _freaking_ Pentaghast lunge toward a woman, a woman who is chained to the ground.

“You’re lying!” She screams as Leliana pulls her off of the prisoner

“We need her, Cassandra.” Leliana turns to face the prisoner again. She doesn’t miss that I am awake and paying attention.

“I can’t believe it. All those people… dead?”

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Leliana asks and then gives me a look that says ‘keep quiet or _else’_. So I decide keep my mouth shut.

“I remember running. _Things_ were chasing me, and then… a woman? No. Two women.”

“ _Two_ women?” Leliana clarifies.

“One was running alongside me, being chased, too. I think” Leliana’s eyes leave the prisoner chained to the ground and meet my eyes through the bars of my cell. _Leliana is quick, the other prisoner must be talking about me_. “The other woman, she reached out to us, but then…” The prisoner sighs.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” Cassandra turns to face the prisoner again, but Leliana doesn’t leave the room like she does in the cutscene from the game. Instead, she stops and looks at me.

“What did happen?” The other prisoner asks as Cassandra helps her up and unlocks the chains.

I’m starting to feel antsy. Are they just going to ignore me? Leave me here? Leliana is still looking at me. I think she is waiting for my reaction. Maybe it’s a test? Do I stay meek and unthreatening in my cell? Should I offer to help? I don’t particularly want to stay in this dark cell and I _do_ have a lot of knowledge that could be helpful...but they... already have their herald. I’m just a nobody who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can’t really help in combat…and drawing attention to myself, when a lot of people are looking for someone to blame, is probably not a good idea. I don’t have a glowy mark on my hand to bring people hope. I should...I should just stay in my cell. Wait for all of the anger to die down a little and then… and then… I don’t know.

“It will be easier to show you.” The other prisoner and Cassandra finally turn to face the door. Cassandra seems surprised that Leliana is still there. Leliana eyes are still locked on mine, searching for something. What she finds seems to disappoint her. She turns to leave.

“W-wwait...” Someone calls out tentatively.

 _Oh, it was me_ . _Why would I do that? Wasn’t I keeping a low profile?_

Before I know it I reach out to grab the bars in front of me. The two guards still left in the room turn to face me, weapons raised. Cassandra, Leliana, and the other prisoner turn to face me. The other prisoner looks surprised (...and frightened??) that there was someone else in the room. But I barely notice any of that, most of my attention is drawn to my left hand. It’s glowing green and it hurts. There is a dull, steady throb that was masked by my other pains. Now that I’m focusing on it, there is a rhythm to the ache that separates it from pain in the rest of my body. It feels alive, like a heartbeat, and it’s... hungry.

I look back at the other prisoner. She has the mark too. _How the fuck did that happen? There is only supposed to be one Herald, one Inquisitor._

“You have an objection, prisoner?” Cassandra asks, disapproval heavy in her voice.

I look back to my hand. _I have the ability to seal rifts, I can help these people_ . Whatever made me called out in the first place solidifies into a drive to help these people. _Whatever has been sending me to Thedas has put me here and now, with a mark on my hand, no less. I don’t believe in any gods or fate, but I do believe that if someone has the power to help others then it is his or her moral imperative to do so._

“I-I want to help.”

“And what precisely would you do to help? Are you a warrior of some kind?” Leliana asks with eyes narrowed.

 _Geeze, she’s frightening_ . I feel myself deflate at her question. “I-uhh no. I don’t really have any fighting skills, but I have this thing on my hand and-and I’m willing to see what it can do.” Leliana raises an eyebrow at that. Maybe I let on that I know a little bit more about what’s happening than she thought I knew. _Whatever. People need help and I know this mark can do something._

Leliana seems to agree. “Let the other prisoner go.”

Cassandra doesn’t seem to share the Leliana’s sentiment.“But, Leliana, you cannot be serious. The risk--”

“Is something _you_ can handle.”

I’m confused at that. _Why is Cassandra against sending me out? She’s willing to let the other prisoner out to try and help, why am I different? There is something strange about the way Leliana put an emphasis on ‘you’. Is it connected to Cassandra’s hesitation?_

“She wants to help. Let’s see what she can do.” Leliana finishes with what appears to be a nod of approval sent in my direction.

I am let out of my cell and my hands are tied like the other prisoner’s. ( _I really need to find out her name. Obviously she’s a Trevelyan, but having something to call her besides “other prisoner” might be convenient)._ As I make my way over to the other three I trip over one of the steps leading to the door. Cassandra makes a disgusted noise combined with an eyeroll. I stop and give her a glare.

_I’m really winning some brownie points with her today._

“Is there a problem prisoner? We must hurry.” She says, impatiently.

“Um, yeah. Before we go anywhere, can either of you tell me what happened to my glasses? If I’m going to be fighting demons I need to be able to see farther than six inches in front of my face”  I waited for one of them to tell me, all three of them just stared at me.

“Demons? Who said anything about demons?” Trevelyan asks.

_Oops._

“Yeah, demons.” I answer evasively when neither Cassandra nor Leliana seems forthcoming. Cassandra looks like she might start punching someone, most likely me, and Leliana has narrowed her eyes. But, it’s hard for me to read facial expressions due to the fact that _I still don’t have my glasses_ , and I’m starting to get annoyed. So I just ignore the suspicion and start to wave my hands in front of my face, as if to add to my explanation. “I can’t see without my glasses.” 

“What are 'glasses'?” Leliana finally asks.

I facepalm, but my hands are still tied so I end up putting the mark's light right in front of my sensitive eyes. I immediately slam my eyes shut as I reel back in pain.

_Today is going to be a long, loooooong day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Two people with a mark on their hand!! More surprises to come!
> 
> Exclamation point!11!!
> 
> Could you tell who was talking in that first bit? I tried to lay clues... the commanding voice is Cassandra. I sort of sent her off to the healing tents last chapter, but her role goes beyond just organizing that. Someone needs to keep supplies moving, rotating shifts of fighters ready to defend, and triage for the wounded has to be organized, there's probably a lot of panic going on, someone has to be in charge. That someone is Cassandra (Which is why Cassandra is there, in Haven, at the beginning of the game and not out fighting). I figure the commander would probably be organizing the front lines and defensive positions around Haven. 
> 
> The voice of reason is the egghead (lol), he turns himself in to the Seeker and offers to help with the prisoners so he can try to find out what happened to his orb.
> 
> And I know ya'll must be thinking "WHAT?! We've barely gotten into Haven and you've already ended the chapter...? WTF Existential_Gamer?"
> 
> Yeah...sorry. It was getting longer than I had imagined and I wanted to get something up for you guys. If I had done all of the game intro in one chapter, I might not have gotten a chapter out for another week -_-.
> 
> Also, I really like the name of the next chapter, so I needed to break it into multiple chapters. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Yeah. It was all so I could use the next chapter title. I won't lie. All those other reasons are just excuses. You'll understand.


	11. I Wear My Sunglasses at Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for sticking with this story and all the yummy kudos! (Over 50 now, SQUEE!)
> 
> I also want to apologize for the slow updates. The wind has sort of been taken out of my sails. I wasn't entirely happy with the last few chapters and I thought to myself: "Why post something you don't like?" So I took a few days to re-evaluate my direction in the story and to remind myself why I wanted to write this in the first place. This was the result. Enjoy! :)

“What are glasses?” Leliana asks.

I facepalmed.

“I cannot help you if you do not explain,” Leliana added with a note of impatience in her voice. “We must hurry if we are to help those fighting near the breach.”

“Fighting? Who is fighting? Are the templars and mages at war? What’s a breach?” Trevelyan asks, worry heavy in her voice, but we all just ignore her.

“I was wearing them on my face. The red thing, over my eyes?” I lifted my bound hands up and used my fingers to imitate glasses. (This time I closed my eyelids before I throwing the light from the anchor in my eyes.)  “The lenses… err the plastic--erm the ‘glass’ over the eyes... fixes my vision,” I cringed at the lame explanation. “I’m practically blind without them. I could really use them if I want to survive...” For some reason Cassandra blushed and looked away. She started to readjust the bindings on Trevelyan to avoid eye contact with me. I furrowed my brows in confusion and looked to Leliana for an explanation.

“Is that what they were for?” Leliana mused with a smile. “Cassandra, you go ahead with the other prisoner and explain what is happening. I need to have a few words with this one.” I gulp. Leliana’s smile widened. Cassandra and the other prisoner turned to leave and, suddenly, I felt very alone and very vulnerable. Maybe I should have stayed in my cell...?

Leliana gestured for me to follow her and turned down a doorway I hadn’t noticed before. _It must lead to a deeper level of the dungeon_. _Real Haven has a creepy sub-basement. Neat-O._ I gulped again, trying to clear the dryness in my throat. _She wouldn’t kill me, right?_ I turned to watch Cassandra and Trevelyan head out towards daylight (which is almost too much for my eyes to handle). I shied away from the brightness and noticed that the two guards who were outside of my cell are still here, right behind me. Both of them are templars. _Why would I need templar guards? Really, anyone with a pointy object would do. I'm not really a fighter._ One of them got impatient and shoved me forward. _Rude._ I stumbled toward the stairs. Luckily, I caught myself on the slimy wall before I end up going head over heels down them. If Leliana heard my near-fall, she didn’t comment, she just continued her descent. _Glad to know she cares_. I wiped my hands on my ‘go boldly’ sweatpants ( _O_ _h, the irony!_ ) and followed her.

The silence of the descent gave me time to contemplate life and it's various twists and turns. One day you are minding your own business, trying to make ends meet. The next, your brother is killed and you are thrust into the world that killed him. My eyes started to well up, but we couldn't have that. No. I push those thoughts to the back of my head into the mental Garrett box I refuse to enter. _Let's focus on something smaller, Fred. Something you can handle without falling to pieces._   _Something that has an immediate impact on your survivability._ It's not my biggest problem at the moment, but it's something I need to deal with. My eyes. They can barely handle the low levels of light in the dungeon. How am I going to handle the harsh light of day? The snow around Haven is going to make that light even more brutal. Maybe... Maybe I could get some cloth to wrap around my eyes? Lessen the light a little or something. I almost open my mouth an ask Leliana for some spare cloth, but think better of it. I'm already on the spymaster's radar, I don't  need  to bring even more attention to myself. I don't want to be useless, though... Maybe… maybe someone can just lead me around and point my hand at rifts? Maybe Varric can be my seeing-eye dwarf? I’m sure he'll get a kick out of it _…_

While I was busy contemplating the merits of a seeing-eye dwarf, Leliana came to the end of the stairs. While she waited, the two guards closed in behind me. Being trapped between the spymaster and the templars had my eyes roving around in search of an escape, but the room at the bottom of the stairs is cramped and bare, the only exits are the stairs I just came down and the door behind Leliana.

“So… this is cozy…?” I remarked, but it comes out as more of a question, maybe a little squeaky too. I felt rather nervous at this point.

 _End of the line for Fred? No. Leliana recognized my description of my glasses. She must have brought me to where they are keeping them. Although... why would they keep glasses in a sub-basement? Are they afraid they might be dangerous?_ _Ugh. I don't know, but whatever is going on, Fred, you need to stay calm and collected._

“The other prisoner was unconscious the entire time since falling out of the fade. You, on the other hand, were in and out of consciousness.” It sounds like there might be an accusation in there. I try to suss it out, but can’t quite make the pieces fit. 

I do think I vaguely remember waking up in a dungeon, though. There were some talking blobs? And a duck? I think I defended the honor of a door... I shook my head in an attempt to remember, but none of what I could remember seemed incriminating. _You're being paranoid Fred. What do you have to worry about?_

 _Oh?  What do I have to worry about? You mean, besides the fact that I've been popping in and out of this world around a conclave that just blew up? No, nothing suspicious about me at all._  I wonder if the spymaster remembers our brief meeting....

“Cassandra was at your side the first time you opened your eyes. She thought your _glasses_ might be a  physical manifestation of a demon, but wasn’t sure until she saw the haunting color of your eyes. To someone trained as a Seeker, this was evidence that a demon was taking over your body. According to her training, the safest action was to destroy the glasses and thus prevent you from becoming possessed.”

“She… destroyed my glasses? How?”

“A calculated strike applied directly to the affected area of demonic manifestation.”

“A calculated.... She…? Cassandra?... _She punched me in the face?!_ ” I couldn’t help the note of indignation that crept into my voice.

“You could put it that way.” Leliana agreed with a smile.

I rubbed my nose self-consciously, “And my nose survived?”

“Surprisingly well. There was a healer on hand to prevent serious harm or disfigurement.”

“Joy of joys…Did my glasses make it out alive?”

“They did not,” she said and her smile grew wider. I think I’m missing something...

“Oh. So… we really are in the creepy tunnel to kill me? We aren’t coming down here to find my glasses?” I hazarded to guess, not really sure if I wanted the answer. Before she could tell me, my brain finally caught up with _everything_  she said. “Wait-wait. You said ‘haunting color of my eyes’. What? My eyes aren’t a weird color, nothing I would call ‘haunting’” As far as I could tell, my eyes had always been brown. I didn’t think brown was such an unusual color for Thedas. There was a thin ring of green around my outer iris, but you could only see that if you got right up in my face. I definitely wouldn’t describe either the brown or green color as ‘haunting’.

“Your eyes are no longer brown.” She took a step forward. I think she’s threatening me now.

 _We are just going to skip over the eye color change (I’ll just put it in the ‘deal with it later’ box, I need to deal with the immediate threat first) and jump right to Leliana remembering what my eye color had been before._ _She must remember me from the gas station..._ I gulped. She hadn’t even seen me for that long and she took note of the color of my eyes.

“A woman has been spotted all over Haven for the past few weeks and earned the title ‘Shadow of Haven’. This shadow appears and disappears out of thin air. She does this just before the explosion destroys the only hope Thedas has at peace. Tell me prisoner, do you think she might have been setting explosives?”

 _She is definitely threatening me._ "N-nn-no. I-I cou-wouldn't _"_  The words stumbled out of my mouth. I took a tentative step back and ran into one of the templars. He shoved me forward and my throat ends up with a knife against it. _She's quick_.

“Oh, so you admit to being the Shadow of Haven." 

 _What? Shit. I didn't mean to admit anything._ This time, I don't say anything, I don't think I could even if I knew what to say. The knife at my throat makes it hard to think, hard to breathe even. I'm pretty sure I nicked myself on it's edge. Stringing together complete sentences is beyond my capabilities at the moment; there is no chance I'll be able to form a coherent defense.

Leliana continues, "I didn’t quite believe it until I saw it. You disappeared before my very eyes. Yet, you _clearly_ have no training as a rogue and none of the templars you have come across can detect any magical means of invisibility, either. This leads me to the only possible explanation: you are a demon from the fade. Cassandra was right, your eyes are evidence of the inner malevolence waiting to strike.”

 _Shit shit shit. She remembers me_ _…she thinks I sabotaged peace talks. She thinks I killed someone she cared for deeply. She thinks I’m a demon._ Suddenly, the templars at my side made sense. _I’m so screwed._ “Look you--uh have to understand I’m not an abomination o-or a demon…”

There was no mercy in her expression as she increased the pressure on the dagger. I tried to move away, but the templars were at my back again, holding me in place.

“N-no w-wait. I d-don’t know what’s been h--h-happening to me. Puh-p-please...” The stutter I had worked so hard to remove from my speech has come back with a vengeance, “I s-swear I’m not a d-demon...s-scout’s honor. I c-can’t be a d-demon I just w-w-want to help… P-p-please d-don’t kill me” I finished lamely as I cringed away from her as much as I could. She pulled the dagger away and raised it menacingly above her head, as if to deliver the final blow. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands, in an attempt to protect myself from the spymaster’s wrath.

“When an abomination is revealed it’s normal response is to either attack or attempt to strike a bargain,” She waited a beat, looking me up and down, “Not cower. No. Cowering is a very human response. Remarkable. What are you?”

 _I-I. What?_ I lowered my hands and opened my right eye to squint at Leliana in confusion.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you, but it confirms my suspicions that you are not a demon or an abomination in hiding. What you are remains to be seen and I _will_ be watching.” She adds with a glint in her eyes.

I shivered but  let out the breath had been holding. My bound hands lowered as I placed them over my heart to help steady the rhythm. As I attempted to get my breathing and heart rate under control, Leliana snapped her fingers. I jumped at the abrupt noise.  _If this woman doesn’t kill me soon, she’s going to give me a heart attack._

“I-I…” I stammer out, not really knowing what I might say. I try to piece together what the _fuck_ just happened. It was all a trap, I realize. She didn’t think I was really a demon… she just used her spooky sub-basement and scarey bard skills to try and get me to reveal myself… that’s… that’s devious. I can’t even… What else has she pieced together about me?

Before I had time to figure out just how far up shit creek I was, or how much Leliana really guessed about my origin, someone came through the door. That snap must have summoned one of her agents. I squinted my eyes and got a brief glimpse of what _I thought_ was my bag and what appears to be several tables with items arranged on them. It looked like an examination room. Several people were walking around the tables, occasionally he or she would pick something up and examine it from a new angle. I think a few of them are mages... sometimes their hands glow. Could that be all of my stuff they are looking at? It was so hard to tell exactly what was happening without my glasses, but I had a gut feeling Leliana has been going through my stuff with a fine tooth comb _and_ she wanted me to know it. _But, on the plus side, my stuff made it to Thedas? Wait… how did my stuff make it to Thedas?_ My view was blocked by the agent Leliana summoned. She was carrying a small black box that I recognized as mine.

I’m overwhelmed by an impulse to just grab it and run, leaving this sub-basement and the interrogation behind. The fear and adrenaline has run me ragged and I just want to get out. “Don’t we have some people to save? I know you have questions, and I’ll tell you what I can, but can’t it wait? Can you just give me my glasses so we can stop the breach?” I ask, hoping that Leliana would have mercy on me.

“It is quite curious that you know about the breach before you have seen or heard of it,” Leliana countered.

_Goddamnit I need to stop giving shit away by being reckless with my words._

“Look. I know it’s weird and suspicious that I know what has happened, but I also know that this thing on my hand” I lifted my bound hands,“ Is something that can help, can we just save the inquisition for later?”

She chuckled menacingly at that, “Interesting choice of words.”

If my hands weren’t still bound, I would be facepalming again at myself. _She doesn’t even need to ask questions, she just has to wait. I’ll just give her my whole life story with my big fat mouth._

“I suppose we shall leave it at that for the moment, but know this: I _will_ get the answers I seek.” She finishes with a dangerous edge to her voice.

She paused and glared at me until I nod in agreement,  _What other choice do I have, really?_

Leliana then continued as if the the whole ordeal, the one where  _she nearly killed me,_  never happened.

 _She’s going to give me whiplash_.

“The item in this box seems to be similar to the other item Cassandra destroyed. But, before I let you have the item, you will explain why the two items are different in color and shape. If you do not explain to my satisfaction, the item will join the first in destruction.” The agent opened the box and resting inside were my prescription sunglasses.

“Uh... what? Differences? Well, I guess, it’s a vanity thing?” I started hesitantly.

“You guess?” Leliana asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Wait. Are we just going to ignore the whole you-almost-killed-me thing?" I ask.

"I didn't kill you. It might be in your best interest to let it go."

“Yeah... good idea," I agreed and then cleared my throat.

 _Moving on..._  

"So-uh, yeah. People choose different shapes and colors to better match their faces. The pair Cassandra destroyed were red because, when I bought them, I thought the color looked good on me. The lenses on these, the part you see through, are tinted black to protect the eyes from the sun. The checkered pattern on the side is simply decorative... But...”

“But...?” she echoed.

“I’m going to look like a total asshat wearing them inside… or at night.” I frown in disgust as I mentally weigh being able to see with looking like a D-bag.

Leliana waited a beat, evaluating my facial expression and my words for honesty, and, finally, she let out a giggle (a sort of friendly giggle, I guess, which is an encouraging improvement, considering the circumstances) “I don’t believe I’m familiar with the term ‘asshat’, but I think I get your meaning. You won’t have to worry about there here, most people won’t know what they are or that they should only be worn at certain times. Very well, you have answered my questions well. You may have them.” I giddily reach forward, happy to finally be able to see.

But, as I reached for the sunglasses, the mark on my hand flared. I crumpled to the ground in an attempt to handle the pain washing through my body. It took all the will I possessed not to scream. It felt like it took hours (but I knew it could only be moments) for the pain to recede.

When the fog of pain cleared I saw Leliana looking down at me, hand outstretched. “Come. We must not waste any more time, surely Cassandra has explained the situation to the other prisoner by now” She says as she helps me to my feet.

 _No-no, Leliana I’m fine, just in excruciating pain, sorry to hold everything up._ I think to myself, but I don’t voice the thought. Our relationship isn’t at the point where I could say things like that and not end up dead. While I bite my tongue, I think back to the cutscene between Cassandra and the future Herald. I think the point where the mark flares is just before they leave Haven and head towards the breach.

“Yeah, we should probably hurry,” I say instead and grab my sunglasses from the agent and put them on my face. The agent had patiently waited for the person in front of her ( _the one crumpled to the floor in pain, if you remember, I certainly do_ ) to regain her composure. She didn’t even bat an eyelash. _These people must be made of ice._ I roll my eyes behind the safety of my sunglasses, where no spymaster can see the motion (hopefully) and follow Leliana up the stairs.

As we make our way to the surface another question bubbles to the forefront of my mind. “So uhhh… when do I get my other stuff back?” I inquire hesitantly. Leliana must know that I saw inside of the other room... and there are some things I was hoping to have back. My cell phone only has so much battery life... and... I never read that message...

“When I deem you trustworthy.” Scarey Leliana is back, _she probably never left_.

“Oh, so, never?” I joke with a nervous chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood and build camaraderie.

My laughter dies out when she doesn’t reply.

_Mood: not lightened. Camaraderie level: negative forty-two._

The rest of the journey is silent.

When we make it through the front doors, the sight is almost blinding, even with my sunglasses on. Cassandra is waiting impatiently and Trevelyan seems… determined? Good. My first impression of her was someone who was meek and comfortable being ignored. She’s going to need that determination if she is going to make it through this alive.

_Do you think she is willing to share some of that determination with me? I want to make it through this alive, too._

“So…?” Cassandra inquires.

“It is as I thought. Not possessed, but there is definitely something _strange_ about her. Right now, she should be safe to travel with you,” Leliana replies.

“I will keep a close eye on both prisoners.”

Leliana nods in agreement. “I will make my way to the forward camp,” Leliana announces. She turned her back on our little group and, in a puff of smoke, disappeared.

She disappeared.

I blinked my eyes, staring at where she had been.

She flipping disappeared! Like a goddamn ninja in a goddamn a cartoon.

Do you know how unsettling it is to have someone there, solid and threatening your life, and then they just cease being there? It’s ridiculous. It’s a slap in the face to reality. I was just starting to get a handle on being here and having my life in peril and then she just goes and disappears. That was probably her plan: freak Fred out even more so she reveals all her secrets or goes insane. Well. not this Fed! I tried my best to wipe the shock off of my face and stop myself from saying something stupid.

I looked over at Cassandra. She was giving me the stink eye, “Just because Leliana has allowed you to come with us, does not mean I trust you. I will not hesitate to strike you down if you turn on me.”

“Bu-but…” I began and looked to the other prisoner for help. She was also giving me the stink eye. Maybe Cassandra filled Trevelyan in on my possible demon status? Maybe she saw my eyes? I thought back and I sort of remembered the other prisoner looking frightened when our eyes met in the dungeon, but there were also a lot of reasons to be looking terrified. Cassandra and Leliana are a pretty frightening duo. Maybe it was the new ‘haunting’ color of my eyes? ( _I really need a mirror or something to check that out_.) But, for some reason, I didn’t think it was either of those things. I was pretty sure Cassandra told her I might be a demon. I let out a sigh and resigned myself to being the odd-woman out.

“Sure. Okay. Not a toe out of line. I get it.” I say, feeling utterly dejected.

Cassandra pushed both Trevelyan and myself in front of her and we made our way to the front gates. I didn’t have it in me to focus on what she was saying. Blah-blah they need someone to blame, blah-blah fair trial. I had heard it all before anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through several versions of this chapter. In some versions Leliana was unbelievable helpful (Mary Sue helpful) to someone as suspicious as Fred. In the others, Fred ended up dead, but that wouldn’t be a very good ending to the story (imho). So, I re-evaluated my conception of Leliana and her motives and took cues from Leliana in chapter 9. 
> 
> At this point in the game, Leliana is the suspicious spymaster, cold and calculating. Which, at first, I thought meant that she would be inclined to kill Fred outright; saving time and hassle. But, really, Leliana as someone who who lives by the socratic method. If everyone believes Fred is a demon, it is her job to come from a neutral opinion and question why people think that. When people make decisions based on assumptions or stereotypes, they miss opportunities and the truth. Leliana knows this and sees Fred as an opportunity to be exploited depending on what truth she finds. 
> 
> Leliana’s goal in this chapter is to determine if Fred is an immediate threat, eliminate her if she is, and, if not, send her out with Cassandra on a field test. Which is why Leliana cuts off Cassandra and her objection to Fred coming along in the last chapter Cassandra was about to “out” that they think Fred might be a demon before Leliana could try and draw it out in a controlled situation. Additionally, Cassandra is a well-seasoned seeker and should have no trouble dealing with one abomination, especially one as unimpressive as Fred. 
> 
> I also believe that, deep down, Leliana wants to have hope. She wants to believe the Maker hasn’t completely abandoned the people of Thedas. The cynical woman we see in Inquisition is a far cry from the one we meet in origins, but the hopeful acolyte from Origins is still buried in there somewhere. Leliana wants to believe in Fred and Trevelyan. Subconsciously this hope/willingness to believe opens her mind to the possibility that Fred might be useful to have around.
> 
> Leliana has also been religiously studying all the reports she has received on Fred. As we saw in chapter 9, she wasn’t inclined to agree with Cullen that Fred was malevolent.
> 
> I hope it all comes across as believable. If it isn’t-- you didn’t want the story to end here anyway, right? :P


	12. Climb the Highest Mountain or, You Know, the One Spewing Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this should probably be edited a few more times. I've been through it about three times already and it's just past midnight. I want to go to bed, but you guys deserve another chapter, so I'm going to post it. I probably have the standard typos my eyes like to gloss over (Every time I reread what I have already posted I find another one. GrrrrRRRrrr.) I'm going try and give it another edit tomorrow morning.
> 
> This one also has a bit of a cliff hanger. If you don't like those I suggest stopping before Fred gets to Varric and Solas. I want to say that I'll get the next chapter up soon, but life has gotten busy lately. I'm trying to do one chapter a week, but... yeah. It's hard. No guarantees.

I was brought out of my daze by the sound of a knife being drawn. Instinctively I flinched away. _I have had my life threatened waaaaay too many times today._ Our little group had come to a stop and I relaxed a little when I understood what was happening. Cassandra turned to face us. _Rope cutting time!_ It was surprising how relieved I was at losing the bindings, _those ropes chafe something awful_.

“Come. It is not far,” Cassandra stated.

_Oh, look. Fred is paying attention again._

“Where are you taking us?” Trevelyan inquired.

“Both of the marks must be tested on something smaller than the breach.”

Trevelyan looked my way to see if I was as confused as her. “Makes sense to me. Work our way up to the big one and all that.” She gave me a nod and, to my surprise, a small smile. _I will win over this Trevelyan, yet (I really need to learn her name)!_

We followed Cassandra over the crowded bridge. _This must be one of the last points of defense before Haven_ . It looked like an infirmary had been set up behind the lines of soldiers. Some of the injured...don’t look too hot. Lacerations ran down their arms and torsos, lacerations that reminded me of my brother.I shut my eyes so I could push those mental images back into my Garrett box. When I opened them I focused on the armor, almost all of the soldiers had black ichor staining it. The armor itself didn’t look like it did the wearers much good. Demon claws marks went through skin as well as leather and chainmail. I take a look at my own outfit. Thermals, sweatpants, and a hoodie. _At least I’ll die warm, right?_

“My creator judge me whole…”

 _Oh, and now there is a priest praying over them. I don’t know about you, but nothing screams ‘No Hope!!’ like a priest giving last rites._ I shiver. This is not how I expected it would be. _More valiant heroes charging in to save the day; less wounded and dying people._

“Find me well within your grace. Touch me with fire, that I be cleansed.” The priest raised his voice to drown out the moaning of the injured. I can’t seem to make myself look at the wounded anymore. “...Tell me I have sung to your approval.”

I couldn’t stop myself from making eye contact with this one warrior. He looked to be in his fifties, which is rather impressive for someone who threw themselves into life or death situations all his life. The man was also twice my size, probably two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. Mr. Gigant-O was now covered in blood. I’m pretty sure the armor he was wearing used to be a full set of plate armor with chainmail underneath, it’s...kind of hard to tell now. They were having a hard time getting the mangled pieces off of him.

_Shit._

“Open the gate! We are heading into the valley.” Cassandra calls out

_Wait. What?_

_Nonononono. I can’t go out there. What the hell was I thinking? “Derp, I can help!” Fred you are so stupid sometimes. What a terrible idea. I only have the mark on my hand, and that doesn’t really do any damage until… until that one point in the game! Yes, I take kickboxing classes, but that’s really just for the exercise. I’ve never fought anyone, I’ve never even thrown a punch with the intent to harm. Besides, punching a demon probably won’t do much good._

_I needed to get out of this._ _I’m not ready. I can’t do this._

 _But what if Cassandra thinks I’m trying to get out of going because I’m the one responsible for the breach? She will probably kill me on the spot…_ . _I can’t back out of this. As scarey as demons are, I’m more afraid of Cassandra._

_Shitshitshitshitshit._

I was on autopilot, following the other two, while trying to think of a way to survive what’s coming.

When we made it through the camp, passed the last lines of defense and protection, three soldiers barrelled down the hill toward us. “Maker, It’s the end of the world!” One of them screamed.

_That’s a real confidence booster._

_Whatever train of thought I had was dropped. I have absolutely no idea how to fight, especially with medieval-type weapons. These people use broadswords and lances… and... and halberds. Are halberds a thing? I’m pretty sure halberds are a thing. I can’t even name the weapons! How am I supposed to fight with them? If I had my bag.... I might have a chance, but I just have me and my wits.  Hopefully those are sharp enough to hurt the demons._ I cringed at my own pun. _I’m terrible... and I’m probably gonna die._

_FocusFocusFocus Fred! You need somewhere to start…_

_Alright, first the plan needs a really badass name Hmmm. B.R.A.V.E. (_ **_B_ ** _eing_ **_R_ ** _ather_ **_A_ ** _wkward [at combat]_ **_V_ ** _eer [towards]_ **_E_ ** _xit). Pretty good for coming up with it on the fly._

Somehow coming up with that stupid name calmed me a little and a plan started to form in my head. _So…_

 

_Plan B.R.A.V.E. (Variation: Breach Approach):_

_Step 1: Get close to Cassandra_

_Step 2: Hide behind the intimidating warrior (ref. Step 1)_

_Step 3: ???_

_Step 4: Profit._

 

_Yep. Another solid plan from Fred._

It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. Just when I was feeling slightly confident in my simplistic, but (hopefully) effective plan, a bridge came into sight. _It was THAT bridge, you know the one. It’s the bridge that always blows up with the herald and Cassandra on it. The one that has that bag of loot just out of reach. Every time you play through the opening you think you might get it this time then, BAM! Bridge explosion._

 _And here I was worrying about the demons! I forgot about giant green meteors that fall from the sky and blow up bridges!_ My panic was starting to get to me again (I’m pretty sure whatever grasp on sanity I had is close to breaking), but before I could decide what to do about it, blinding pain lanced through my hand. Judging by Evelyn’s grunt of pain, she was in a similar situation.

As the pain receded Cassandra reached down to help Trevelyan to her feet. “The pulses are coming faster now,” She said as she patted Trev’s arm. She turned to continue up the trail, but paused,briefly, to glare at me. The look in her eyes dared me to ask for a hand up. _Thanks Cass_ . ( _I think she still thinks I’m a demon_.) When my eyes met Trev’s, she just looked plain uncomfortable with the whole situation. There was pity in her eyes, though, and her manners seemed to get the better of her, she offered a hand in my direction.

I waved her off.

 _Screw pity. I don’t need it and I don’t need help from either her or Cass. Well...except for the whole fighting fade monsters thing. Maybe I could use their help with that. But I can definitely get up on my own two feet without their help._ I had banged my elbow (hard) on the way down but, overall, nothing was too damaged. I brushed off my clothes and moved to follow Cassandra.

“The larger the breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.” Cassandra says.

_More demons is a scary thought, but demons aren’t the immediate threat growing in my mind. The bridge is getting closer and neither Cass nor Trev seemed to be worried at all._

_Of course they aren’t worried, they don’t know it’s going to blow up._

_What should I do? Should I warn them? Should I… Should I just stand back, safely away from the explosion?_ I was ashamed at myself for the thought. _I’m kind of on the fence about Cassandra right now, but Trev seems like a decent person, I probably shouldn’t let her get blown up._

_Speaking of explosions…_

“How did we survive the blast?” Trev asked.

Something about Trev’s question niggled in the back of my mind, but I was too busy trying to control my panic and deciding what to do. _I should probably warn them._

“They said you… you both…” She glared at me again.

 _Seriously? I used to really like Cassandra._ I can’t take anymore goddamn glares from this woman. _Maybe I won’t warn them about the bridge blowing up..._

_No. This animosity has to stop. I shouldn’t let a few glares endanger their lives. She just upset that the Divine and all those at the conclave are dead, she’s not really mad at me._

“...Stepped out of a rift, and then fell unconscious.They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. ” Again… something was niggling in the back of my brain… _A woman? Flemeth? No that’s not right… What?_ _I--_

_Leave it Fred. You need all the brainpower focused on surviving what comes next. Now THINK! What are you going to do about the exploding bridge?_

_“_ Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough. _”_

We had reached the bridge that was fated to collapse with us on it. _Decision time!_ But my mind was still vacillating. _So...gut decision...I think... I guess.... maybe let’s to try honesty? Or something? Protect good people from danger. Always a solid plan._ “Hey you guys, maybe we could…you know... not take the bridge?”

_Yeah, that sounds like a reasonable request._

Cassandra whipped her head around to face me. At first she seems confused by my request, but then her eyes narrow in suspicion _(Oh, no. Another glare, maybe it wasn’t so reasonable a request?_ ) “The bridge is the most direct path to the breach. Why would we want to find another way?” She turned her whole body  to face me now, “Unless… Unless you don’t want us to get to the breach?” As she finished her question she pulled out her sword and aimed it at my throat, “I will ask you this _once_ , _prisoner_ , why do you wish to delay us?”

 _How I wish I could just keep my big mouth shut, of course suspicious Cassandra thinks I am purposely trying to stop them from repairing the breach._ I gulped and tried to piece together a reasonable excuse, “Well, you see. I have this thing about heights and… and....” My lame-ass response was interrupted by a fade-meteor crashing into the bridge. All three of us were blown back and off of our feet by the blast.

 _Oooph_ . The wind had been knocked out of my chest. Luckily, Cassandra’s drawn sword didn’t end up impaling my throat. It only imbedded itself in the snow four inches from my head. I just laid on my back and stared at it for a second before shrugging another near death experience off. _That’s what? Attempt number 72 on my life today? No biggy. Moving on._

“I lied. Sorry Seeker. I really did want to delay us. I didn’t fancy being on a bridge when it was blown to smithereens,” I quipped, before Cassandra could wave her sword in my face again.

“How could you have possibly known that?” Asked Evelyn, her eyes wide with disbelief.

I shrugged my shoulders and gave a smirk, “Sporadic bouts of precognition?”

Both women stared at me. Cassandra made a disgusted noise and got up to survey the bridge’s smoldering remains. “Demons!” she called and leapt off the bridge to meet them in combat. Evelyn was hot on her heels.

I was still sitting on my ass in the snow. “Does anyone bother to ask why we are running towards the explosion? No? Just me?” I called after the two warrior women. Eventually I got up and headed to the ledge. The intention was to mimic Cassandra’s utilitarian leap to the snowpack below. But, when I came to the edge, I tripped over… absolutely nothing. _I swear I used to be graceful before I met all these people from Thedas. At least I avoided landing on my face this time._

_On a side note: How the HELL does Cassandra manage to be so quick and graceful with all her armor weighing her down? Also, I’m pretty sure we are standing on a frozen pond, how thick does ice have to be to withstand the weight of a fully outfitted warrior? Will she fall through? And why the HELL did I follow her? I have no armor to protect me, no weapons to fight with, and I sure as SHIT wouldn’t know how to use them even if I had them._

_Awesome life choices, Fred. Now I just need to avoid dying to the the ferocious demons._ I began to enact my _B.R.A.V.E._ plan to hide behind Cassandra. I looked around for the warrior.

 _How the_ HELL _did she get over there_?

Before I could think up some countermeasures to rectify the major flaw in my plan (ie, Cassandra being too far away to hide behind), another, more pressing, problem made itself known. Two wild demons appeared between myself and my would-be salvation. “Great.”

My fellow prisoner seemed to be doing much better than I was. Unlike me, she had a real plan, a plan that didn’t rely on hiding behind the warrior. She raced over to a large two-handed sword sticking out of the bridge debris and squared off to face the oncoming demons.

I decided to revise B.R.A.V.E.:

 

_Plan B.R.A.V.E. (Variation: Breach Approach; V:1.1)_

_Step 1: Find any badass warrior woman (incl: Cassandra, Trevelyan)._

_Step 2: Hide behind badass warrior woman (Ref. Step 1)_

_Step 3: ???_

_Step 4: Profit._

 

I moved to get behind Trevelyan, but I don’t think she got the memo about the _B.R.A.V.E._ revision _._ She kept pushing forward (away from me) to deal blows to her opponent. Additionally, there was some serious backswing to the two-handed weapon method. Both of these issues combined to leave me unguarded. _Neat_

I found myself revising B.R.A.V.E. again:

 

_Plan B.R.A.V.E. (Variation: Breach Approach; V:1.2)_

_Step 1: Find any badass warrior woman (incl: Cassandra, Trevelyan)._

_Step 2: Hide behind badass warrior woman (Ref. Step 1) (Addendum: Mind the backswing)_

_Step 3: If steps 1-2 do not provide adequate protection, FIND SOMETHING TO PROTECT YOURSELF WITH!!_

_Step 4: ???_

_Step 5: Profit._

 

I looked back at the smoldering debris, hoping to find at least a shield that I could use to block blows with. Or maybe a piece of wood or something I could use to whack stuff with. _Picking up a sword or other such sharp objects would probably end with me being short a limb or an eyeball._

My frantic search didn’t reveal a shield. The only serviceable weapon left in the charred remains was a metal staff with a spikey mace looking end. _Oh. OH OH. Am I mage?!_ I gave an excited squeal and jumped up and down. _I’m a mage! I’m a mage! I’m a mage! I’m a mage! I’m a mage! *_ mentally sung to the tune of “You Can Fly” from Peter Pan.* But, my celebration was cut short when I heard the rasp of a demon closing in behind me.

Only two shades had escaped Cassandra’s wrath (She was handling another three, _you go Glen Coco!)_ Evelyn was occupied with one of the demons, leaving the other for me. I started twirling the staff around, which made the demon pause in its forward charge. _HAH! And Garrett said I was wasting my time learning Morgan’s fake version of aikido from The Walking Dead “It’s not the real martial art,” he said, “You would be better going to a real instructor for the real thing,” he said. Proved him wrong. The twirling sure makes me_ look _like a badass._

Hopefully, looking like a badass was going to be enough to save my life.

Unfortunately, the demon began to advance again. _Maybe repeating the same move over and over was not intimidating enough?_

_Enough spinning this stick around, Fred. Time to show this demon you mean business. Let’s do some magic!_

I wasn’t really sure how this whole ‘magic thing’ worked. So, I took my best guess at it. I thought “Fireball” really _really_ hard; I imagined flames erupting out of my staff and engulfing the shade in front of me. When I figured I had formed the image well enough in my head, I gave a thrust of my staff, as I attempted to make my will a reality. Sparks travel up the staff, but when they reached the end: they fizzled out with a _pffbbbftft._

 _Did my… Did my staff just fart? IT DID! My staff just FARTED instead of making a fireball!_ I look up at the demon and I swear if the thing had a face (or a mouth or really any distinguishable features besides claws) it would  have laughed at me.

It resumed its charge. I gave another thrust of my staff. I was rewarded with another fart noise.

“Goddamnit! Work!” I pull all my focus to my staff, ignoring the demon that was within spitting distance. _Universe, you owe me this one, Goddamnit._ I gave an almighty heave. This time the sparks were bigger and growing towards the end of the staff, my hopes began to soar. This is it; I’m going to make a fireb-

…PFFFFBBBEFFFFTTFFT.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The fart, this time, was loud enough to draw even Cassandra’s attention. She fought harder, seeing my distress.

_Obviously magic isn’t going to save me, I need a new plan. Maybe I should try B.R.A.V.E. again...but… too late. The demon is here._

“Fuck it,” I exclaimed and slung the staff over my shoulder, gripping it with both my hands. I’m overthinking all of this. I’m not a very patriotic, but I’m from the United States and we play baseball, goddamnit. _I can do this_. It’s time to  “BATTER UP!” I yelled as I put all my weight into my swing. The demon’s body gave a nice crunch and made some goopy noises as it collided with my improvised bat. Much to my surprise, the force is enough to knock the demon on its ass (if it has an ass, that is). I was not going to give this thing a chance to recover. I started whaling on it with abandon. Eventually it dissipated into a slimy mess.. “That’s what you get for fucking with ‘MURICA” I screamed at the the pool of ichor.

I was breathing hard from my exertions and the adrenaline was draining out of my system. My staff dropped out of my hands. I couldn't hold it anymore.

“It’s over.” Trev said.

“Put down your weapons” Cassandra demanded. I gave a delirious laugh at that. _Beat ya to it, Seeker._ She glared at Evelyn, and then me. She seemed to have a special look of resentment for the mage in the group. This only fueled my laughter.

Trev gave Cassie a good glare of her own and replied rather aggressively “All right, have it your way.”

 _Trev’s got some TEETH._ _Rawr! Haha Trev. Trev and Fred. The Amazing Adventures of Two Girls with Dude Names!_

“Is something the funny to you, prisoner?” Cassandra directed at me. She gave me a look of great loathing that she probably typically reserved for Varric. _Yeah, that friendship is going to take some work._ _Varric and I can make a “Cassandra Hates Us” group. We’ll make t-shirts and have parties, parties with balloons!_

That thought shouldn’t be all that funny, but somehow it was. Everything was just so hilarious right now. I don’t think Evelyn or Cassandra understood the joke, though. _How could they not? I don’t understand how they don’t understand, and it’s hilarious. IT’S ALL HILARIOUS_. Both of them were just staring at me. In the back of my mind I noted that my laughter was was becoming increasingly maniacal, it almost sounded like I was crying, too. I...I couldn’t stop myself.

There was a sharp stinging sensation across my left cheek and then another across my right.

 _Agh! When did it get so bright out?_ I immediately lifted my arms to shield my eyes and rub my cheeks. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Someone tentatively placed my sunglasses in my left hand. _Oh. I lost my sunglasses. How did that happen?_ When I put them on and opened my eyes, it was Trev standing next to me.“Sorry about that, but I think you needed it” She mumbled softly and stepped back.

_It clicked. I had completely lost it right there. The overall stress was getting to me, the battle must have been the tipping point. You’re starting to crack, Fred. Get your shit together, you aren’t even halfway up the mountain._

I took a few deep breaths, eventually I calmed myself enough to speak, “I’m sorry, I just… that was my first fight. And you guys saw me ‘defend myself’, if you can call it that. I-uhh… I don’t know if I’m gonna make it to the breach and I think the stress is getting to me. But I’m going to get it together. It won’t happen again.” I ended confidently. Cassandra’s eyes seemed to soften a little I think there might even be some admiration in that look. _It’s the first non-glare that I have gotten from her, so I’m going to call it a win_.

“Both of you followed me to kill the demons when you could have run. Even if your combat abilities are… _unconventional_ ,” Cassandra gave me a slightly-less-than-hostile glare and I gave her a timid wave back. _Yep, lack of skill, that’s me._ She rolled her eyes. “You both tried to help, I should remember that. For now, keep your weapons. I will not be able to protect you on our way up the mountain.”

We both nodded at Cassandra, and I went to pick up my staff. While I was doing that, Cassandra made her way over to a fallen soldier. He had been carrying a rather large satchel. “Here. Take these potions.” She took two for herself and two for Trev then handed the bag to me. _Apparently, the terribad fighter gets to be the pack mule. That’s cool with me, as along as I can hang back, away from the fighting._

“Are these all the soldiers you had?” Evelyn asks. It was hard to miss the tremor in her voice. If I remember correctly, much of the Trevelyan family is involved with the chantry. I wonder if she lost someone close to her in the explosion.  

“There are more at the forward camp and in the thick of the fighting. For now, we are on our own.”

“Delightful,” I mumbled.

“What was that, _prisoner_?” Cassandra snapped at me.

“Nothing!” I said quickly. _Okay. Note to self: There is a difference between being slightly-less-hostile and appreciating Fred humor. Got it. Lesson Learned._ Although, Trev was trying to stifle a giggle. When she looked my way again I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. This time she doubled over in laughter, and used both hands to try and cover the noise. _At least someone appreciates my humor._

_I know it seems callous to make someone laugh after such a tragedy, but if I’m going to avoid another breakdown I need some levity. It’s how I cope. It seems like Trev needs it, too. I think, on some level, Cass understands. She graciously decides to ignore our antics and starts making her way up the mountain again._

I don’t remember the next few groups of shades from the game being too difficult to handle, so I keep my mouth shut on exactly when and where we were going to be attacked. It also gave me a chance to determine just how accurate the gameplay was as far as locations of enemies.

Sure enough, just like in the game, we found ourselves at the top of a small ravine. Two shades were lurking at the bottom.

“There, watch out! If we flank them, we may gain the advantage” Before she went to jump down (How does she keep jumping onto ice and not slipping??) she gives me a look “You should probably stay out of the fighting, if you can.”

It hurt my pride to be singled out like that, but I knew she was right. I just nodded my head and enacted B.R.A.V.E. Sticking close (but not too close) behind Trev as she went down the ramp to flank the demons.

My non-combative position gave me time to examine my co-anchor ( _Oh, the puns!)_ Trevelyan _._ The first thought that popped into my head was: _Geez, another human. Can we get some diversity up in here? An Adaar herald would be really cool, we need more qunari in this inquisition_ . _But, Trev is what the universe gave the inquisition… and I guess the universe gave them me, too (terrible decision, Universe)._

She was young, very young. Probably a decade younger than me, _I don’t even think she is in her twenties yet._ She had the type of natural beauty that most women from Earth strive for ( _if Caroline were here she would be so jealous_ ). Trev had the classic golden hair and deep blue eyes. She kept her hair in a sort of French/Orlesian braid that went to the middle of her back. _I bet that if she were to free it, the hair could be described as “flowing” and “luxuriante”_.  To top it all off, she had eyebrows I would kill for and the perfect hourglass figure. Overall, she had the kind of fairytale-princess beauty that made me feel like a scruffy nerf-herder.

I tried to put all of my petty thoughts away and find the person that was really standing in front of me. Which wasn’t as difficult as I thought because, at the moment, she was anything but a prissy princess; she was about to cleave the demon in two with her giant sword.

_I don’t even think I could lift that and she’s swinging it around like she was born doing it!_

Every one of her movements flowed into the next, like she was dancing a familiar, deadly ballet. The look on her face was one of pure concentration and determination. An expression that screamed she had something to prove to the world. _Whatever she was trying to prove, she sure convinced me_.

After the warriors finished dealing with the demons, I felt like I should break into an applause. “That was amazing!” I called to them.

Trev blushed and looked away, Cassandra rolled her eyes and replied “To the untrained, I am sure it was quite impressive, but this was just the beginning. We still need to reach the breach.”

I attempted to contain my enthusiasm and refocus on what was coming. What came next, had me concerned. The upcoming packs of demons were going to have at least one wraith with them. we had no ranged fighter to deal with them and we only had melee fighters. _Maybe I should try fireballs again?_

We got to the part of the path with the wraith ready to rain down spirit bolt things. Cassandra raced forward to deal with the shade, which left the wraith for Trev and I. _I think I’m gonna try the fireball thing again?_ _Maybe I need to feel around for some magic first, gather the power, and then send it through the staff toward the wraith._ It looked like Trev was going give me a shot at this one so I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate. I… I think I feel something. It’s sort of squishy and malleable, I can sort of sense the power behind it, but trying to grab a part of it is like squeezing one of those stress reliever toys. You squeeze and the liquidy power bit sort of gets pushed to the other end. Well, I grabbed a fistful of the outer covering and mentally shoved it through my staff.

Plus side: the staff didn’t make a fart noise; Negative side: the end of my staff exploded and knocked me off my feet _._

I looked up to see that the wraith was at least gone, but Trev was looking at me and shaking her head. She offered me a hand up and I gratefully took it ( _I’m feeling a little singed right now_ ).

“You probably shouldn’t try that again. What circle are you from and why didn’t they teach you how to use a staff? From what my cousin tells me it’s a pretty basic thing.”

I felt my cheeks heat at her words “I’ve uhh… never trained in a circle. I don’t even think I’m really a mage. I didn’t have magic until today, not that I would really call what I’ve been doing ‘magic’.”

She looked dumfounded at my words. “You haven’t trained at all and you are trying to use magic? That sounds really dangerous.”

My face was on fire now and I tried to defend my actions, “Well at least I killed the wraith!”

“Uhh… not really. Your magic just sort of just backfired.”

I looked at her in confusion. Instead of elaborating, she just walked over to where the wraith had been. Sitting in the green goo that used to be a warith, was a throwing knife. “But…Who threw the knife?”

Trev blushed again and reached down to pick it up. She started cleaning it in the snow and then slipped it in her overcoat.

“No way. You… but… how? Where did you get the knife? How did you learn to throw like that?” I asked.

Before I could get any answers Cassandra cut in, “Prisoner, what you just did put all of our lives at risk. You will not do magic again until you have had the proper instruction. Is that clear?” Her tone brooked no argument.

“Yeah. No more magic from me. Got it.” _Ugh, why can’t I do anything right?_

We finally made it to the base of the stairs that lead to Varric, Solas, and the smaller rift. A large group of demons waited at the bottom, but between the two warriors they were handily slain. While they fought, that niggling feeling was in the back again, but I couldn’t quite understand it. It was centered around the upcoming meeting… _but why?_ The feeling reminded me of when you miss a step on some stairs; like something you expect to be there, just isn’t. I push the feeling to the back of my mind. _Even if I’m not fighting, I shouldn’t let this feeling distract me. I need to stay alert, just in case._

“We are getting close to the rift.You can hear the fighting.” Cassandra cuts in.

“Who’s fighting?” Trev asks.

“Oh, I know who’s fighting,” I said, excited to see that glorious chest hair again.

“You do? We are going to have a talk about these ‘limited bouts of precognition’ as you put it. Soon.” Cassandra said.

“I already promised Leliana I would, get off my back” I replied. _So much for keeping a lid on your foreknowledge, Fred._

Cassandra scoffed, “Just a friendly reminder. Now, hurry. We must help them.”

Cassandra and Trev leapt into the fray again. _What did Fred do, you wonder? Fred took her sweet-ass time climbing down from the ledge, thank-you-very-much_. I had had enough of falling off the ledges and bruising things. I may not look cool doing it this way but it’s safer. I sat down on the edge, feet dangling below and gently lowered myself to the ground below. When my feet hit solid dirt, I brushed off my hands and cleared the dirt from my posterior. By the time I had finished there was only one demon left.

_Perfect timing. Get in there Fred and be useful for once in your life._

I raced toward Trev and came up on her left side. I grabbed her anchor hand with _my_ anchor hand (which also happened to be my left, so positioning was awkward, but I managed) and shouted, “Quickly, before more come through!”

 _HAH! Take that SolASS. Wait… what?_ The niggling is back! Ugh. So annoying.

Trev and I stand there for a bit and nothing happens. I then feel someone sidle up to my left side, I jump a little when I feel someone grab our anchored hands. It’s Solas and he doesn’t look too happy about being upstaged. I feel something _push_ through the anchor and something in it... unlocks. It was the only way to describe it. The rift made the humming noise that signaled it was closing. There is a small explosion of light and the rift disappeared.

“What did you do?” I asked, distrust heavy in my voice when I looked over at Solas. But before he can answer I steal his line again: “Wait, wait. Let me guess. ‘ _You_ did nothing. The credit is all _mine_ ’?”

He looks taken aback. _Well... I probably would be surprised if someone stole what I was about to say, too_. “At least the anchor is good for something!” I finished.

Solas looks a little confused, but sort of shakes it off “Uhh, yes.”

_What a champ! Let’s ruin his day. Cassandra, Leliana, and Varric all have some idea of my future knowledge, so why not screw with them a bit._

He started into his spiel, confidence partially restored.“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized--

I overlap his last words with my own, _right_ as he was hitting his verbal stride. “You theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake--and it seems you were correct. You smarmy bastard.” ( _That last bit was me I couldn’t help it._ )

Solas looks miffed… I guess is the best way to put it. He narrows his eyes in suspicion, no one else is saying anything. _Fred, you are a terrible person and have derailed this entire conversation, but you already started this shit….so... Let’s blow these people's minds._

I swiveled around and pointed at Cassandra. “Meaning that it could also close the Breach itself.”

Another one-eighty and I was pointing at Solas. He just looked rather offended, now. I tried to put on my best Welsh accent, “Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

I looked over at Varric, he was supposed to be adjusting his glove, but he’s just gaping at me. I stage whisper “Good to know! Here I thought…” He furrows his brows and shakes his head. _I don’t think he wants to jump on the crazy Fred train. Too bad. I really love it when he introduces himself._ I try to deepen my voice and make it sound a little more masculine and repeat “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever. Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.” I even wink at Cassandra. She reaches for her sword.

I didn’t want to have Trev feel like she was not included, so while pointing both index fingers at her over my left shoulder “Pleased to meet you, Varric” (She seemed the type to be super polite).

I don’t even turn around to face Solas, I just point at him behind me: “You may reconsider that stance, in time.”

I pointed back at Varric, who was now covering his eyes like he was embarrassed to know me. “Aww I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

I paused to think about the next bit, I didn’t think I could do it verbatim. Usually, I tune out the bickering. I rub my chin and summarize instead: “Uhhh Cassandra says you aren’t coming with us, Varric. You use your wily tongue to convince her otherwise, and end with a ‘you need me, Seeker’ She replies with her patented *disgusted noise* but doesn’t disagree. Aaaand...Wow. That sounded a whole lot more sexual than it was.”

I turned back to face Trev. “So… you’ve met Cassandra and you’ve met Varric.” I pointed back over to Solas and donned my Welsh accent again. “His name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. He’s pleased to see we both still live.” I reverted back to my normal accent. “But he probably won’t stay pleased for very long, because I know EXACTLY who he is. I can see right through his façade, and I’m going tell everyone here _exactly_ what kind of monster Solasreally is..." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me?


	13. Chapter: Not a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D: D: Long story, short: I need some time to adjust to a new schedule and do some planning. It might be a few months before I update. My deepest apologies.
> 
>  
> 
> **12/18/16**  
> I still haven't had time to really do any planning what-so-ever, but in my spare time I've been working on the next chapter (which I will be posting shortly) It just wasn't fair how I left ya'll hanging...
> 
> Still no idea how frequent updates might be, but I'm going to be making a concentrated effort to get it done.

~~Okay so... not a chapter. Super sorry about that. Also, sorry about the lack of updates.~~

~~About three weeks ago I interviewed for a part-time job. The interview went so well that they wanted to hire me full time (yay, benefits!). The job requires a lot of training, so... for the last two weeks I've been cramming my head full of knowledge. And, let's be honest here, when I come home, all I want to do is tune the world out (not yay, hardcore introvert!).~~

~~I've only written a little bit of the next chapter and, as I am writing this, I am remembering where I left the story... omg... I'm a horrible person. But I want to give you guys my best and if I try to write it now, it's going to come out forced and wonky.~~

~~So... I'm taking a bit of a break. When I adjust to the new job I'm going to spend some time writing and building up chapters. What I have planned requires more forethought than I had been giving it.~~

~~If I need another break in the future, I'm going to plan it better (sorrysorrysorry, still learning, but that full-time job just kind of fell into my lap).~~

~~I may spend some time doing minor edits to older chapters, but don't expect anything new for a few months. Maybe I'll get my shit together in time to get you guys a Chrismahannakwanzika/end-of-the-year holiday gift.~~

~~Thank you so much for sticking with me so far.~~

**12/18/16**

Haven't really done any editing... or planning... or writing (gawd I'm a lazy-ass) but! I have the next chapter! I felt really bad about leaving that cliff hanger, so I threw a little spit shine on what I had for the next chapter and am calling it good, enjoy :) and Happy Chrismahannakwanzika!


	14. Nothing Is Intact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't really done any editing... or planning... or writing (gawd I'm a lazy-ass) but I have the next chapter! I felt really bad about leaving that cliff hanger, so I threw a little spit shine on what I had and am calling it good, enjoy :) and Happy Chrismahannakwanzika!
> 
> Side note:  
> Screw planning! Planning is for CHUMPS! I wanna WRITE goddamnit. 
> 
> Updates will happen when they happen!

“...I know EXACTLY who he is. I can see right through his façade and I’m going tell everyone here just _exactly_ what kind of monster _Solas_ really is... ” The expression on the elven mage’s face went from one of voracious curiosity to one of defiant silence.

_*Dramatic pause, for effect.*_

Trevelyan looked warily between Solas and myself, Cassandra had her hand ready to draw her sword (although I’m not sure who she had decided to attack), and Varric…well Varric looked insanely curious… and a little bit… angry?

“Solas is… He was…no-no is... He’s the… He’s...” The words failed to form. I wracked my brain trying to remember what I was going to say. That _feeling,_ the niggling one I kept pushing from my mind, was back in full force.

It turns out I probably should have paid attention to it.

_I-I...can’t remember._

There was something about Solas… something big, I KNOW he had a big secret, but my mind can’t reach it, whatever it was.

_Why Can’t I remember?!_

Everyone was staring at me. It looked like Cassandra had finally decided on where to focus her wrath. _Gulp._ I ignored all of them and closed my eyes to the distraction, I had to remember.

_It’s...Solas is… He’s… I-I can’t.. UGH!_

I scrabbled around in my mind for the secret, but all I found was this nasty ball of feelings centered around the elven mage. A small part of me itched to give the mage a hug, but a much larger (like, 50000% larger), less forgiving part made me want to punch him in his smug face. It felt like betrayal; the feeling left a bitter taste in my mouth and boiling rage in my stomach. Feelings like that don’t just happen.

_I would also like to point out: I’m not particularly know for wanting to punch undeserving people in the face. These feelings were justified, I know it, I can feel it. I just don't know WHY._

My brain wanted to make the connection, but that line of synapses came to a dead end.

_Oh shit._

_If I’m missing these memories of Solas, what else am I missing?_

The realization made me feel vulnerable. The knowledge I had made my cocky and I flaunted it, but... now it's incomplete. It felt like the floor had been ripped out from under my feet. _Ugh, what a lame metaphor._ No--I had thrown myself out into a snowstorm, with only a potholder to keep me warm; I jumped, head first, into shit creek without a paddle, a canoe, or water wings, only a snorkel; I went to a Star Wars convention and insisted that Patrick Stewart made the best Gandalf because he told the Doctor to "Live long and Prosper" before he brought the ring to Hogwarts.

_Weird segue..._ I shook my head and tried to focus.

I did my best to mentally map out the plot of _Dragon Age: Inquisition_. When you open the game, there are templars and mages walking towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes...you push the new game button and it explodes….you make your character...there’s… spiders?...and...someone else? She helps you? I think? Wait... 'she'?

I couldn't remember. _Why can’t I remember?_

I tried to think back to the dungeon scene. _The memory seems pretty clear (maybe because I also just lived through it??): the herald saying she lost her own memory (hmmm maybe mine is related??)… Leliana and Cassandra play good cop/bad cop-- Wait… how did the herald lose her memory?_ I jumped tracks to try and remember what caused the Herald’s memory loss, but it's not there. _The herald did lose some of her memories, right? Yeah she did, Trev said she didn’t remember what happened and… my memory isn’t doing to hot right now, either._

I glanced down at the mark on my hand _Maybe acquiring the mark can eat away at memories? It seemed hungry enough._ Logically, the connection made sense. Trev and I are the ones experiencing memory loss and we both happen to have this glowy thing on our hands… but something in my gut told me I was wrong...

Nothing about this made any sense--I played the entire game--I could even bring an image of the credits to my mind’s eye. _Why would I forget? What came before the credits?_ I clenched my eyes tighter in an attempt to focus, but all I could remember was… Cullen might get a mabari?

_Yeah, that’s helpful_.

This didn’t make sense. _I know I KNEW who blew up the conclave before I got here--how could I finish the game and_ _not know? That seems like an important part of the plot to resolve before rolling the credits roll, right?_

For some reason, when I thought about who blew up the conclave, Alistair’s face pops into my head. _Ummm--weird connection, brain--why would Alistair blow up the conclave? Shouldn’t he be… “Grey Wardening”? Or ruling Ferelden? Or obsessing over cheese somewhere?_ Further thoughts of Alistair brought a deep pit of dread to my stomach but I didn’t know why. _Did… will something happen to Alistair?_ I tried to focus on Alistair; I think I remember Alistair’s entire story from Dragon Age (except the part where he apparently goes on a rampage and blows up the conclave???). Let’s see: Swooping is bad...turned out dude is a royal bastard (oh, the puns)...he doesn’t get along with Morrigan... likes helping people when he can… bad jokes… cheese…He had several options in the end: sacrifice himself to slay the Archdemon, become king, shun the throne and remain a grey warden, or end up a drunkard in Kirkwall.

_Yep, I think the Origin plot is all there...Now why the eff can’t I remember the Inquisition plot?_

I remembered the Herald’s interrogation, there was a lot of deja vu when I lived through it (and I also know she eventually becomes the “Herald of Andraste”). Judging by my recent dialogue theft, the meeting with Solas and Varric was all there in my head, too. I also knew there was going to be a Pride demon at the end of this mountainous, demon-filled road trip… but everything else about Inquisition seemed to be a jumbled mess in my mind or missing entirely, including Solas’s big secret. My memory of the inquisition game was in tatters, like they had been ripped from my mind.

I finally opened my eyes and noticed I still had the undivided attention of four very dangerous, impatient people. _Oh, right. They are still waiting for the big reveal. Uh..._

“You were saying Solas was a monster? What manner of monster is he and how could _you_ know?” Cassandra demanded, still clutching her sword. She said "you" like I was some sort of grime she couldn't scrape off her impressive and shiny boots.

_Shit, Fred. Think. Think. Think. I guess… maybe I could tell them what I do remember about Solas? Shit. What do I remember?_

One thing popped into my head and I already hated myself for thinking it.

_Cassandra is never going to forgive you, Fred._

But, it was the only thing I could think to say.

“Solas is the kind of monster… who... who hates tea” I said and forced out a laugh. “Wow, I really got you guys good, didn’t I?” I added, lamely, as I avoided making eye contact with anyone.

_My mind is falling apart and I have to pretend I was making ill-timed and really bad jokes._ _FML._

There was a pause before anyone else responded. This time, Cassandra decided to skip right over her patented disgusted noise. She stared at me, blinked, slowly, as if to steady herself, and faster than my eyes could track, punched the stone wall behind her. She started speaking...er...ranting angrily in a language I didn’t know while pacing back and forth. Judging by her tone and the way she punched the wall of the ruins, I don’t think any of it was complementary.

Solas scrunched his nose in confusion and and tilted his head in contemplation. He eventually forced out a small huff of laughter. It seemed like he was going to take it (or pretend to take it) as a good natured joke, but (and I may have imagined this) he sounded a little relieved. “I am unsure of where you received your information, but it is entirely correct. I detest the stuff.”

“‘Limited bouts of precognition’, right?” Trev interjected (I jumped a little, completely forgetting she was there), she seemed unsure whether or not she wanted to join in on the joke, but there is a small smile on her face. I wiped the surprise off my face and nodded in her direction with a lopsided smile of my own.

At Trev’s answer Solas became contemplative and rubbed his chin in thought, “Hmm… ‘precognition’? It hardly seems possible, but I would be interested in hearing more about it in less dire circumstances.”

I shrugged in answer. Solas in “curious/contemplative mode” made me nervous for some reason. Let’s call it a “vestigial instinct”; feelings left over from whatever I used to know about the _Dragon Age: Inquisition_. It was a gut feeling that told me I may have kicked a rather large hornet’s nest. (Not only kicked it, but probably locked myself in a small closet with it.)

I was a little surprised at how quiet the dwarf was being and glanced over in his direction. He was studiously avoiding me by making adjustments to Bianca. The set of his shoulders was stiff and his jaw was clenched.

_Hmm… what’s going on there?_ I decided that after my recent digression from the mission at hand, now was not the best time to ask him about it, I made a mental note to talk to him later about it.

We all waited (awkwardly) for Cassandra to finish her tirade in Nevarren. After taking several deep breaths, the warrior rounded to face me. The look she gave me made me shrink a few inches and take a step backwards. I’m sure if I had a glass of milk in my hand, it would have curdled.

“You have wasted enough of our time, _prisoner_ ,” Cassandra spat. “ While you may think it is fun to slow us down with your juvenile antics, men and women fight and die to defend us from the demons that rain down from the sky. Each moment is bought with their blood and their lives; it is not to be wasted. Remember that, when next you decide to open your mouth and fill the air with your nonsense.”

_Ouch._

By the time the Seeker had finished I could feel tears trying to escape from my eyes. I made a close examination of my shoelaces when I replied, not quite able to tear my gaze away to look at the seeker, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”  _I am such an asshat, maybe I am the kind of person who would go around wanting to punch random hobo elves_. 

“That much is obvious. We must get to the forward camp quickly. We have wasted enough time,” She turned to make her way down the hill, and everyone filed out after her. Varric didn’t make his customary joke about Bianca being excited which made me die a little on the inside. Trev hesitated before following the others, but I couldn’t even bring myself to drag my eyes higher than the tops of her boots. She eventually moved on after giving my shoulder a quick pat. I followed with a sigh.

_Today just keeps getting better and better_.  _Let's see how else I can fuck everything up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing... editing is also for CHUMPS!!
> 
> So if you see any grammar problems or missing words you could probably pretend that everything is perfect...or I guess... if you really want to...(I mean I'm all for the the "let's pretend everything is perfect" plan) you could point out any glaring mistakes.


	15. How Fred Fucks Everything Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty-angst angst. Angst everywhere!

I tripped again. AGAIN! This time it was over those goddamn boards you have to jump over in game. I used to like jumping over those boards. Those boards represented freedom of movement in a game series that kept the player rooted to the ground, but now…

_I fucking hate those boards_.

Stupid boards, always in the way. They just appear there and screw up everyone else’s day. They don’t have any useful skills or information. They could have at least tried to be a sign post. At least a signpost can lead people in the right direction even if they don’t do any actual work.  These boards aren’t helpful at all. They just sit there, in the way, making people do extra work to go around them.

_GODDAMNIT! I fucking hate those boards._

This place makes me feel like such a child. I can’t take care of myself. I don’t know how to fight, I don’t know how to talk, and I don’t know how to act. The one advantage I thought I had--knowing the future-- was no longer something I could rely on.  It must have been ripped away when I came to this stupid place.

Why do I remember such lame details like Solas hating tea? Why can’t I remember anything useful like: Who caused the breach? Or: Will I be able to seal the breach? Or: What the fuck did I do to make Varric clam up?

Whatever ripped away my memories… I just (and I hated myself even more for thinking this)… but… I just wish it could have also taken the memory of my dead brother. It’s not fucking fair. Why was I left with the memory of my brother’s blood stained locks slipping through my fingers? Why did I have to live through THAT and then get abandoned in this hell-hole?

I wanted to cry and pout. I wanted to scream and rip my hair out, but I couldn’t do any of that. My dumb ass had decided to climb the mountain of demons with a surly seeker, a (recently) taciturn dwarf, and a creepy, egg-headed hobo-mage ( _at least Trev was nice, I guess_ ). Why did I decide to help out by fighting demons? To satisfy some childish need to feel useful? I could have been useful making bandages or... or… cleaning pots or something. Anything besides battling demons would have been been better suited to my abilities. Clearly, I wasn’t using the part of my brain where logic comes out when I made that decision.

_“ARGCH!”_ I screamed.

A wraith struck me in the shoulder with a gooey wraithy spirit bolt, interrupting my pity party. I was a little confused that a demon had even hit me, I had been staying far behind everyone else (as out-of-the-way as I could get). It seemed that the wraith was the last enemy on the field; everyone else had avoided the spirit bolt easily while my dumbass had basically walked right into the line of fire _._

_This whole in-the-way thing is becoming your thing, Fred._

I was examining the goopy, green, fizzing mess that covered my shoulder and lamenting the damage done to my alliance hoodie, when Trev approached.

“You should try to pay attention,” She chided as I started to feel the pain from the wound. _Oh, ouch. That stings._  She pulled the potion bag I had been carrying off of my shoulder and placed it on a boulder so she could dig through it. She found a cloth and a jar with some green stuff in it. Trev dipped the cloth into the jar and brought it over to me. As she neared, I could smell the goop; It smelled like an antiseptic, but was a lime-green color that I would associate with a vat of acid in a cartoon, not medicine.

“Hey, what’s--” I started to ask as she began dabbing my wound with it.

The sensation was sort of cooling, at first, like a menthol rub. “Sorry, this is going to sting,” She said.

“Oh, it doesn’t feel so b-- MOTHERFUCKER THAT FUCKING HURTS” I screamed as the cooling sensation morphed into a goddamn bonfire fire on my shoulder. At this point Trev was putting away the jar and digging through the bag to find more instruments of torture. “You're supposed to warn people it will hurt BEFORE you try to burn their arm off!” I said as I paced away and kicked the snow in a pitiful attempt to take my mind off the pain. “GODDAMNIT! I really liked you, Trev, but now I’m going to have to find a new candidate for "Bestie in Thedas"," I glanced over at the rest of the group, all of which were doing their best to ignore me and my swearing "...but I don’t think anyone else is willing.”

She stopped what she was doing and stared at me, “Trev?”.

“Ummm...that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head. I, uh, I’m not sure what your first name is.” I shifted uncomfortably for a second while she blinked at me. “OH! Erm… what a way to introduce yourself Fred,” I verbally chided myself with a graceful facepalm. “I’m Fred, Fred Stainton but you probably guessed that with the whole me-blurting-it-out-just-a-few-seconds-ago thing. Well... probably not the last name, but now you know my name, both names; Fred Stainton. You can call me Fred. Just Fred is good.” I reached out and grabbed her hand to shake it exuberantly. She seemed alarmed by the action. ( _Mental Note 1, RE: Surviving Thedas: Handshakes may not be a thing.)_  “And you are...?”  I asked as I retracted my hand.

She looked at her hand for a moment (as if it might attack her) before looking up and replying, “Lady Evelyn of House Trevelyan, a pleasure to meet you. Although, I wish it were under different circumstances”. She even threw in a small curtsy.

“Impressive” I said as Evelyn returned to rifling through the pack. _I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the title or the curtsy, maybe both?_

“Hmmm?” she inquired back.

“What, oh. I mean, yeah. Hole in the sky: terrible way to meet”.

_You need to put your spaz away, Fred._

“Aha! Found it. Plenty of health potions in here, but hardly any poultices. But I found one!” Evelyn exclaimed with glee while she showed me her prize. “Here. I ‘m going to put this poultice on and you take a sip of this health potion for good measure.”

I took a step back when she approached me. “How about not?” I asked.

“What? We have to finish taking care of your wound.” She replied with a pouty face.

“Nope. I don’t trust you.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s like you’ve never had a wound cleaned. Let me finish.” She took another step forward and I seriously considered bolting, but Evelyn was giving me one of the best cute-but-serious-puppy faces I had ever seen.

_You’re such a sucker._

I caved. “Fine, but only if I get to call you Evie.”

“Done. It’s better than Trev anyway.” She said with a tight smile as she applied the poultice. “This one won’t hurt like the other one.”

She was right, it just felt sort of warm. _Maybe that’s what magic healing plants feel like?_ I popped the cork on the healing potion and gave it a good whiff. _Ugh. It smells like licorice. I hate licorice._ I made a face.

“I know it smells bad, but the taste is alright. Haven’t you ever used a poultice or a healing potion before?”

“No. And I don’t trust you. I bet this tastes way worse than it smells.”

“Well, you should drink it. Just a sip is enough for the wound you have.”

“Ugh. Fine, but just to let  you know, I noticed you didn’t actual deny that it would taste worse,” Drinking this foul potion wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I didn’t want to die of infection or anything. I knew hardly anything about medical stuff, especially medical stuff in Thedas. I should probably do what the lady says, I don’t really want to die of… dysentery or whatever it is people die of in medieval conditions. I tipped the bottle to my mouth, letting the smallest of drops hit my tongue. I immediately regretted every decision in my life that lead me to this moment.

Not only  did it taste like licorice, but also the bulk of the repulsive flavor was, what could only be described as, rotten parsley, chased closely by a coppery egg flavor. _Don’t ask me how an egg can taste coppery, it just does. Yuck._ I started rubbing my tongue on my sleeve which only made it worse. Evie (AKA liar-liar-pants-on-fire) handed me a water skin as she laughed at me.

“C’mon, don’t be such a baby. It isn’t that bad.”

“Liar! I name thee deceit incarnate!”

“Awww. I thought you were going to call me Evie?”

“That all depends on how many more lies you tell me. _Blegh._ That was horrible. ”

Evie began returning the various salves and potions back to the medical bag, while she continued to laugh at me. I was smiling with her and laughing a little myself, but by the time she packed everything away and handed the bag back to me, my sullen mood returned. When I looked at the bag, I was reminded about just how useless I was.

_I’m just the bag carrier. The weak, inexperienced bag carrier who gets in the way_.  _No-no: the weak, inexperienced bag carrier who gets in the way and says really stupid and insensitive things._

When my eyes met Evie’s I couldn’t hold my thoughts in anymore and blurted out: “I should have stayed back in Haven.” It all came out in a jumped rush.

“What?” She looked surprised at my revelation, or at least surprised that I was saying it out-loud.

“I should have stayed back in Haven,” I repeated, more firmly. “I don’t belong here, fighting demons. Or cowering behind you guys while _you_ fight demons. I’m just in the way and slowing you guys down. I… I wasn’t meant to be here. I’ll just fuck everything up, like I always do. I’m sorry.”

Evie stared at me, dumbfounded by my confession. She opened her mouth to say something, but I couldn’t bear to hear what she had to say. I turned towards the rest of the group “Sorry about the hold-up. Ready to roll out.”

“‘ _Roll out?_ ’ We will not be doing any _rolling_.” Cassandra sniped.

“Right. Yeah. No rolling. Just a turn-of-phrase. Let’s get moving.”

***

We finally got to the gate outside the forward camp. The rest of the group cleared out the demons and I waited to be useful. The moment the area was clear, I snuck up and thrust my hand toward the rift and sealed it.

“The rift is gone, open the gate.” Cassandra called out.

“Right away, Lady Cassandra,” was the reply.

Creepy hobo turned to the group “We are clear for the moment,” he inclined his head in my direction, “Well done.”

I rubbed the back of my head “It wasn’t much, you guys did most of the work.”

I heard a scoff from behind me and I turned to look at Varric. What I saw in his eyes, was not something I ever wanted to see from Varric. It was anger; it was an accusation. “Whatever that thing on her hand is, at least _it’s_ useful.” The dwarf shouldered Bianca and pushed past me, joining Cassandra at the gate, and leaving me in shock.

I turned back to Solas and Evie, who were both looking at me, “What did I do to him?”

“I am unsure, from what I have learned of the dwarf, he is rather affable,” was Solas’s reply ( _Was that supposed to be consoling? I’m kind of understanding why I have the urge to punch this guy in the face_ ). “But I am glad you are becoming proficient at closing the rifts. If anything is to end this madness, it the mark on your hand,” With a nod of his head, Solas turned to follow the Seeker and the Dwarf.

“Whatever it is, Fred. I’m sure you’ll find a way to fix it.” Evie added apologetically.

“Yeah. I just wish I knew what I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to get updates out once a week. We'll see how long it lasts :)


	16. Fred Meets Someone Who Might Not Hate Her, YAY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hint, hint--It’s not Chancellor Roderick.**
> 
> Hi all! I’m not dead! Aaaaand…. I haven’t given up on Fred!! Honestly, I've been dealing with depression. Doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through the day for the past... months... has been a chore, but I’m back! “For how long?” You ask?; “Who knows!” I answer. I'm trying out some new medication and seems to be working and I got this chapter done! Yay!. I also find that when I make plans and schedules for myself, the rebel in me decides to sabotage the organizer in me. I have to trick myself into not planning to write so I can plan to write. (I’m a sane person, I promise.)
> 
> Also...a note on dialogue from the game:Fred hasn’t really messed with the timeline a lot to diverge from canon. Most of the meet-and-greets with characters will be very similar to what happens in-game, with the addition of Fred Flair™. As the Fred fucks things up, characters will diverge from their original dialogue.

As we approached the next camp, I heard arguing voices, but I didn’t try to listen in on the conversation. I had been zoning out for a while now. I had heard all the conversation before, multiple times, so it wasn’t all that important that I pay attention. And, plus, self-righteous church people like Roderick made me want to hit things. It was better that I attempt to tune him out.

No… my mind was focused on more important things like: why the _fuck_ did Varric hate me. I thought, out of all the people here, Varric would be the easiest to get along with. We had already met before and had a lovely discussion about nicknames… and I told him where I was from… and… something else. I _knew_ we talked about something else, but I can’t get my mind to latch onto it… it must not have been very important…. I wonder if Varric is upset about my story and me being from another world? But… that doesn’t make sense. He seemed weirded out by it, but he wasn’t mad at me. Why is he giving me the cold shoulder?

My attention was brought back to the present by a flare from the breach, and the echoing pain surging through my hand. Evie and I both gasped in pain.

“How do _you_ think we should proceed?” Cassandra pointedly asked Evelyn.

“You want to know what _I_ think?”

“You have the mark.” Solas interjected.

“And _you_ are the one we must keep alive” Cassandra added. The emphasis didn’t escape my notice. _Thanks Cassandra, I really feel the love._

Evie was biting her lip and looking very uncertain. After a moment she turned to face me and asked, “What do you think, Fred?”

Everyone shifted their focus to me, much to the annoyance of Cassandra, and I blushed. Even Varric stopped ignoring me long enough to look at me with a curious expression. For a moment, I considered whether or not I should share what I know. _I have read a lot of fanfaction about Thedas and if an Earthling gets sucked into Thedas, they always keep their foreknowledge close to their chest. It was the smart thing to do. It made the most sense. I was already on Cassandra’s “To Be Interrogated” list, but maybe I could still try and backtrack on what I know._  

But one look at Evie’s face and my decision was made. She had a look in her eyes that reminded me so much of my brother when he was pleading silently for guidance and support from his older sister. That look combined with her eye color… I hadn’t noticed before… it’s the _exact_ same shade of green as my brothers.  For a moment I was pulled back to the last time I had seen my brother…I grasped his cold hand and looked into his eyes as I brushed away the hair from his forehead...I shook my head to clear the memory from my head as my eyes began to burn with unshed tears.  I knew I had to tell her what I know. “You can save the scouts if you take the mountain pass.” I blurted.

“ _What_?” Cassandra asks, disbelievingly and turns to Leliana. “We cannot take this prisoner at her word she--”

“Well, not all the scouts,” I interject, “but some of them are still alive and fighting at a rift. They haven’t able to send word back. There are also demons between you and the scouts, but you guys can beat them. The full-on charge would work too, but you won’t save the scouts.” I could see Varric mouthing the words ‘full-on’ while everyone else either looked confused or angry. Except for Leliana. The look in her eyes made me shiver.

Neither of those emotions were on Evie’s face. I could see there that she believed me, or was willing to believe me anyway. Cassandra saw it too, and she wasn’t going to stay silent about it, “You cannot simply trust the words--”

“We’ll take the mountain pass.” Evie interjected, with more command in her voice than I thought she was capable of.

“But--” Cassandra started again.

“No, Cassandra. We left it up to Evelyn and it is her decision.” This time it was Leliana who interrupted Cassandra, a look of unspoken communication passed between the hands of the divine. Surprisingly, the Seeker acquiesced. _I don’t think I am on the spymaster’s radar in a good way._ “But... I suggest that we only send a small group through the pass. Cassandra, Evelyn, Solas, and Varric will travel through the pass, the rest of our troops will remain here to provide a distraction.”

Everyone swiveled their heads to look at me again to see my reaction. I blushed… again. _I guess I wasn’t the only one who noticed I was left out of the mountain pass group._

“You guys really know how to put someone on the spot.” I mumbled before clearing my throat. “Uh… yeah. I-right. I agree. I don’t want to slow you guys down. I think you have all seen enough of my combat ‘expertise’ to last you a lifetime.” I bumped Evie’s arm and murmured a “Good luck”.

She returned my sentiment with a nod and a “You too.”

Evie and the other three rushed off toward the mountain pass to save the world. I felt a lot smaller standing on the bridge watching them. _What are you doing here, Fred?_

I looked to Leliana for direction, but she was already busy issuing orders to her scouts. It seemed that the spymaster was content to let me wander... _for now._ _She’s probably just waiting to see what I’ll do on my own._ Shifting my gaze left and right, I searched, nervously, for whoever Leliana had tailing me. I didn’t see anyone, but, somehow, I wasn’t really comforted..

Adjusting my weight from foot to foot, I wondered what I should be doing. _What does someone do to prep for battle? Stretches? I think stretching might be important_ . I started my normal routine for stretching before a run, but stopped when I started getting weird looks. I tried to move my gestures into a really exaggerated yawn. _Yeah, Fred, I’m sure they are all convinced you aren’t a weirdo._

I glanced around again to see what everyone else was doing, and it looked like they were all slowly making their way up the main road towards the bulk of the army. Bereft of any other ideas about what I should do, I just followed everyone else.

Now, I want to say I’m in pretty decent shape. I go for long runs five times a week, in San Francisco, no less. It’s not exactly prairie lands; the hills there are pretty killer. So. _Why the hell is it so hard for me to keep pace with the other soldiers?_ A lot of them were loaded up with creates, weapons, and armor. All I had to carry was my staff. _Is it because the air here is thinner in the mountains? Maybe Thedas is bigger than Earth? If it’s a bigger planet, does gravity here exert more force?_ I turned to a nearby soldier and reached toward him to voice these questions, but he jumped back from my reach, grasping the hilt of his sword. I realized, too late, that I had reached out to him with my marked hand and that my questions wouldn’t really make sense to him anyway. I backed away and spoke a soft “Sorry, my bad.”

He glared at me and spit in my direction before moving towards another group of soldiers, muttering something about “filthy mages”. He didn’t let me out of his sight until he was safely amongst the the other soldiers. Glancing around, there was a wide gap between me and every other person.

I never felt so alone and unwanted. My eyes started to sting with tears, but I swallowed them back. I focused my thoughts on making it up the mountain.

It took about forty minutes of climbing to reach where the soldiers were forming up for their charge/distraction. Panting, I looked around for somewhere to catch my breath. There was a large chest by some unoccupied tents. I made a beeline for it. I plopped on top of it and enjoyed my first quiet moment since falling into Thedas. I relished in the solitude, closing my eyes and leaning back so I was laying down, feet dangling off the edge of the chest.

Just having some time to _not think_ was great. I could feel my muscles tingling from the day’s exertion, the cold wind biting my fingers, and the warm sun on my face. I was finally able to just… breathe.

...But… something rattled in the back of my mind. The emotions I didn’t want to feel, the thoughts I didn’t want to think, everything that had happened on Earth that I couldn’t face was trying to work its way out of the box I chained in the back of my thoughts. It was scratching at the lid, trying to get out; it was a yawning pit, trying to pull me in. I couldn’t… I can’t…. I just wish…

And then I felt a sharp pain in my shin “Hey, you better not be sleepin’.” My eyes flew open to a bright, green, impossible light; the breach, taking up a massive portion of the sky above me. “Wake up” another sharp kick to my leg.

“Ouch” I said as I sat up and began rubbing my shin. “Was that really necessary?” I asked the intruder, indignantly.

The person, who was soldier-shaped shrugged. “Commander needs yah up front. I drew the short straw ter come getcha’.”

“Oh, good. Awesome. The Commander knows I can’t fight, right?”

The soldier chuckled at me. “Commander doesn’t need ya’ ter fight. He just needs that mark on yer hand. And ter be honest with ya’, he’s not really askin’.”

“Oh, right.” I got up to follow the soldier. A little thankful that she had woken me from...whatever it was that just happened. “What’s your name?”

“Emmaline. But don’t call me that. Worst name ever, Emmaline. Most call me Emma or just Em.” She said the last one with a smirk. “What about you, you have a name other than ‘prisoner numba two’?” Em had a strange accent that sort of reminded me of the Yooper side of my family. It was sort-of comforting to hear it.

“Uh, yeah. It’s worse than Emmaline. Everyone just calls me Fred, though. You can, too. I guess. Thanks, by the way.”

“Thanks? Thanks for what?” She asked as she guided me through the other soldiers.

I wanted to say ‘for breaking me out of dream’, but something in me hesitated. So I chose something else to thank her for, “Thanks for drawing the short straw. Thanks for talking to me and looking me in the eye… well sunglasses.”

“Is that what they are called, then? I like ‘em. Makes ya look… tougher.  And, don’t mention it. These other soldiers jus’ don’t know what yer able ter do.”

“Do _you_ know what I’m able to do?” She didn’t reply, just gave me another smirk. _Okay then_ . _That’s not really an answer._

“Now listen here, Fred. Yer aren’t here ter fight off a horde of demons single-handedly. Yer here ter close a rift, yeah? No heroics. Stay behind yer guard and wave yer hand around when it’s time. Got it?”

“Got it. I think. I shouldn’t try to smash” I waved my staff around for emphasis,  “the demons at all then?”

“Only if they get close enough ter ya.” She said as she put a hand over my staff to stop it from hitting her.  “But trust me, they won’t.”

“Em, what makes you so sure they won’t get that close? We are going to the frontlines, right?”

“I’m glad you’ve asked these questions, Fred. It shows that you are really thinking ahead” She pulled her shield and a large spiked mace from her back. “Yes, we are taking you to the frontline, and the reason I know the demons won’t get close, is because _I’m_ the head of yer guard.” Emma gave a ferocious battle-cry as I noticed four other soldiers had closed ranks around me. My amazing skills of observation also noticed that we were AT the frontlines and Cullen Rutherford was fighting a terror demon less than ten yards away from me. _Oh Shit did I fall asleep at the wheel?_

This rift must have been one of the first rifts opened. The area was overflowing with demons.I cringed away as the soldier to my right bashed a shade in the head with his shield. Everything was so loud and chaotic, but one of my guards had a hand on my shoulder and helped me keep pace with Em as she lead the way. She was _seriously_ a force to be reckoned with and the soldiers around me were clearly familiar with her battle tactics. They moved together seamlessly. Before I knew it, Cullen’s troops had cleared a space around the rift, and my guards had navigated me to it. I gaped in amazement at the warriors around me.

“Whaddaya doin’ Fred, wave yer hand at it!” Em yelled at me as she used her mace to deliver the death blow to a demon.

“Oh, right. Gotta be useful.” I switched my attention to the rift and raised my hand toward it. With the guards dedicated to my protection I could really focus on the sensation passing through my arm as I closed the rift. It felt like a wave of itchiness sweeping up my arm, burned away by road rash scraping its way through the itchiness. _Not a pleasant feeling at all_.

I was rubbing my arm when the guards around me stiffened and did that weird dragon age salute. “Captain Swyft,” a voice called behind me, “You managed to close the rift.” I was met by none other than Commander Rutherford as I swivelled around.

Em addressed the Commander, “As much as I’d like the credit, Commander, it was this here prisoner that done the work.” Em turned to face me and gave me a wink. “Right useful--that thing on her hand.”

“Is that so?” He turned his attention towards me. “I hope they are right about you. We lost a lot of people getting you here.”

“I--right. Yeah. I’m going to do my best. I’m not really a fighter, but I’ll do what I can.” I said sheepishly as I wiggled my fingers at him with my marked hand.

“That’s all we can ask.” He replied as he gave me a strange look. I quickly lowered my hand and clasped it behind my back.

“Commander.” I heard Leliana call out. _Where the HELL did she come from?_ “It’s good to see you alive."

“Sister Leliana. I thought you said there were two prisoners.”

“There are. Cassandra and the other took a different path.”

“Why would--”

“Later, Commander. For now, we must make our way to the breach.”

“Right. Maker watch over you--for all our sakes.” Cullen turned to follow his retreating troops, grabbing an injured soldier and helping him limp his way back to camp. They must be going to watch our backs and clean up the other demons around haven.

“Let’s move” Leliana called out to the remaining troops and my guards.

 

* * *

 

The trip to the breach was a silent one. The devastation shocked everyone into an awed silence. It felt profane to speak amongst the bodies frozen in torment and death; no one wanted to disrespect the dead.The closer we got to the epicenter of the blast, the less bodies we find. Everything this close was completely obliterated. _How the hell did I survive this?_ We rounded the corner of what used to be a hallway of the temple and Leliana raced forward calling out, “You’re here. Thank the Maker”

“Leliana, have your men take positions around the temple.” Cassandra said in lieu of a greeting and turned back to address Evie “This is your chance to end this, are you ready?”

“I’m assuming you have a plan to get me up there?” Evie asked.

“No this rift was first, it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the breach,” Solas informs her.

“Then let's find a way down and be careful.”

  
No one really told me what I should do, I hesitate a moment, but decide I want to be there with Evie to help her close the breach. My hesitation causes me to miss Varric’s mentioning of the red lyrium, but I already knew about it. I just didn’t know I knew about it until I saw it. _Huh, that’s weird_. I shrug and hurry to follow the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did edit this, I promise, but I'm terrible at editing my own work, so I'm sure mistakes got through. (I keep finding tense mistakes and it's driving me up a wall). Sorry about what I missed.


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